The Dreaming Viper
by Tamaska Forsaken
Summary: ON HIATUS. Aisling. The thorn in his side, and the rose of his dreams.
1. Genesis

Greetings, and unless you're a bloody idiot, you know that J.K. Rowling's wonderful creations belong to her, and I am Tamaska and not J.K. Rowling.

The name 'Aisling' is pronounced 'Ashling." I know, it confused me at first, too.

I am hoping that this will be a novel length fic, but we'll see how things go.

I hope you can figure out the significance of the title. Cupcakes and PopRocks to those who figure it out and can report back to me.

Enough babbling, and on with the show!

-- TDV --

**The Dreaming Viper**

Chapter One: Genesis

The Dark Lord sat on his plinth and regarded the man below. He was American, but of a caliber that not many Americans possessed.

"What is your will, my Lord?" The man's voice was slightly muffled, due to the burnoose wrapped tightly around his head. His voice was not unpleasant, deeply resonant, with an accent just different enough to be intriguing, but one that would make him distinguishable among the hordes of Death Eaters he had under his command.

His family knelt behind him. A wife, brunette and petite. Two sons, several years apart, one blonde and the other brunette, well built. A daughter. A rare beauty.

His eyes lingered over her. Her eyes were cast down, but he could see delicate features cast in a delicate shade of ivory with thick folds of black hair hanging over her shoulders. A glint of silver gleamed on her nose and eyebrow and on the little bit of her ears he could see. She wore black well, as if accustomed to it, and she would wear a Death Eater's mask well.

Perhaps.

"Your daughter, Blake. How old?"

"Sixteen, my Lord."

Excellent.

"And her name?"

"Aisling."

"Do you have any objection to sending her to school?" The question was a formality, all present knew that his word was law.

"None, my Lord. Does this mean you accept our service?"

The Dark Lord paused. He had to admit, the proposal was intriguing. Rather intriguing. His eyes rested on Aisling again. Her red lip was clutched in her teeth, showing either anxiety or anger. He probed her mind, but was met with a forest of resistance. She'd been taught Occlumency. Most excellent.

Her eyes darted up to meet his for an instant and the corner of her mouth turned upward. Intriguing.

"I believe so, Mr. Blake. You and your wife may approach." He withdrew his wand from the folds of his robe and held it before them. Mason's wife eyed it in mild trepidation, but Mason touched her wrist lightly. She relaxed.

"You know what this means. You now belong to me. I find that you have betrayed me, I will kill you and your family. You serve me well, you will be rewarded. Your family serves me well, your star will join the Dark Mark in the sky."

Both Blake and his wife nodded.

"Death before dishonor. Remember that."

A lengthy incantation was spoken and the Mark was branded indelibly on both their arms. They were his. His eyes rested on Aisling once again. Her face was a mask, but her eyes blazed. They were remarkably similar to Lucius and Draco's eyes. A little darker, perhaps, with more secrets concealed behind them.

"Aisling Blake. I have a task for you. Do you accept?" His eyes held a challenge. She could read that declination meant death, whereas acceptance meant either success or failure, but failure also meant death. Not much of a choice.

"I don't believe I have another option." She spoke candidly. He liked that.

"I don't believe you do," he almost chuckled. How unlike him. "Well, then. You will attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your only duty is to succeed well. You will, however, serve as a support to my agent there, Draco Malfoy, who is some months your elder, if I am correct."

She nodded.

He probed her mind again, leaves and branches obscuring her thoughts and will. It was an unusual technique, this distraction instead of resistance. Every other mind he had invaded had some sort of resistance, be it a dense fog or a brick wall. Aisling employed a different tactic, making no attempt to dissuade intruders from entering, but not allowing them control. The forest was a fascinating distraction, intricate and detailed, many things to draw the attention of the invader and keep them from their goal. On one hand, it would be less draining because a resistance took great energy to maintain, but on the other hand, it would be quite tiresome to sustain because of the detail. He would have to look into this.

Thoughts whirled around his head as he regard Aisling. He'd have to warn Draco to keep his hands off her, it would not do to have his agents in the school distracted by each other. Although it would be easier to keep them in line, threaten one to keep the other in check.

"Lucius." A robed man behind the throne stepped forward. "Summon your son. Miss Blake and Draco must meet and become accustomed to each other if they are to work together with any semblance of success."

Lucius nodded and strode from the room. We would see.


	2. Danger

Greetings once again. This is chapter two, obviously, and I must apologize that this is merely setting the ground work for later chapters. This is slightly AU, but not really, if that made any sense whatsoever. And a little OOCness, even though I tried really hard to keep OOCness away. That always irritates me when characters do something totally opposite from what they're supposed to.

Anyone figure out the title yet?? The cupcakes and poprocks are getting stale, and I might have to eat them to put them out of their misery. Once again, enough rambling from your inane author. This is all J.K. Rowlings's creation, just in case that wasn't made clear last chapter.

-- TDV --

**The Dreaming Viper**

Chapter Two: Danger

Harry Potter woke up panting. It was a moment before he knew where he was, staring up at the revolting orange ceiling of Ron's room. You'd think the youngest Weasley boy would be sick of orange, red, and yellow by now, but evidently not.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the camp bed, holding his head. The harsh orange of the Chudley Cannons posters made him feel slightly sick after the cool greens and browns of the forest. He'd been chasing after a girl with dark hair who would not turn and face him. She reminded him of Cho Chang, the object of his affections for so long, but the longer he contemplated it, the less likely it was that he was chasing her. He hadn't chased her in over a year, and now they were too awkward to look each other in the face.

The forest had been comforting, but slightly sinister. A sickle moon was barely visible through the canopy of pine trees and its scant light glinted off the girl's hair. Every now and then he could see the profile of her face, but not enough to really see her. She would slow slightly, allowing him to get within three feet of her, and then take off again. She was tireless, but so was he, only she was faster. She floated over the floor, ignoring the roots and patches of stinging nettle, whereas he had to wage battle upon them.

He chased her for hours, following her twisted path through the forest. He had the strangest feeling that she was leading him from what he really wanted, but she was too compelling to stop following.

Harry shook his head. At least it was a change from the corridor he'd been dreaming about for a year. He just hoped that it wouldn't be reoccurring. He'd watched a Muggle program about how sleep deprivation and the lack of dreams could drive someone insane. He knew they were right during his fifth year when all he dreamed about was an unnamed corridor in the Ministry of Magic that lead to an obscure department that ended in the death of his godfather.

He snorted with mirth. Professor Trelawney would argue that his dreams held a death omen regardless of their content. She'd also dispute the merits of science until she was blue in the face, and would take it as a mortal attack that Harry would back the scientists to her face.

With that idea to entertain him, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen. He figured Mrs. Weasley would be there, starting breakfast, and perhaps Hermione and Ginny, too. They were early risers.

And Ginny was good with faces and names. Maybe she could tell him if the girl from his dream attended Hogwarts at all.

— TDV --

Aisling grinned. The Dark Lord had attempted to infiltrate her dreams. Just as she knew he would.

She'd led him on a rambling chase through her forest, allowing him within mere feet of him before evading him yet again. He dreaming self was a little younger than she imagined, with dark hair and glasses. He kept up with her rather well, though, she had to admit. Perhaps he'd been an athlete when he was younger.

She knew he'd been interested when she'd employed Occlumency against him during her parents' Marking Ceremony the previous day, and knew she'd hear from him eventually on it. Thank God for the library at her previous academy. The principal was too much of a blithering idiot to realize that some of the books were rather sinister, and held magicks much too advanced and Dark for a regular student to handle well.

That was the only thing she would miss about being at the Salem Academy of Alchemy, the extensive library. There were things in there that would be at home at a magical university, or perhaps not. There were things in there that had even made her shiver, like translations of ancient Sanscrit scrolls detailing potions with nauseating results, Chinese instructions to enslave demonic spirits, and African incantations to completely demolish an enemy tribe.

And the fools at Salem let her waltz in at the age of thirteen and gain forbidden arcane knowledge. And then they wondered why she excelled at her lessons and won duels with students five years older than she.

They quickly learned not to mess with her. It wasn't quite running away when they saw her coming, but it was definitely a gulp and step back when seniors were matched up against her in combat lessons as an eighth year. It was infinitely satisfying.

A bit lonely, though. Her own brothers were afraid of her, and her parents were wary when she was in a bad mood. Constant fear made it difficult to make friends, and even when she managed, they always wanted more than she was willing to give.

Like her infamy.

This Draco Malfoy character was different, though. She'd met him shortly after the meeting with the Dark Lord. She immediately knew he was the son of the man in the throne room, their family resemblance was mildly scary. Looking at Lucius was like looking into Draco's future, and Draco was Lucius's past. Unsettling.

He had been distracted, but attractive through it. His blond hair was a little long, curling under his collar, and thick blond lashes framed silvery eyes. It was an odd effect. It would be interesting to see him with dark hair, perhaps dyed black.

He'd make a yummy emo boy.

She'd known a few of them from the Muggle school that she attended when Salem wasn't in session. She found their broody ways and love of girl pants and black unbelievably appealing, and the fact that they weren't afraid of her only heightened it.

They seemed to be able to sense her power, though. They seemed to regard this as the height of emo-ness, persuading her to dress like them and to pierce her nose and eyebrow. She had to admit, it added to her shock value - powerful and hardcore.

This Draco Malfoy would look absolutely delicious with dyed black hair and a lip ring. She'd need to get him out of the professional slacks and into some girl pants, with a decent pair of black skating shoes.

First step, though, was to find out how pliable he was. She hadn't gotten too much out of their first meeting besides the initial attraction. Draco led her to a sitting room a few doors down and pushed her down into a chair. There was a fire crackling in the grate and a teapot and two cups set upon a low table.

He'd laid down some ground rules, such as the fact that she was not to address him by his first name until they were better acquainted, a rule she promptly ignored. Another was that she was not to become infatuated with any of his Slytherin peers, no fraternization with the 'Golden Trio,' whoever they were, and the last was to remember that she was a newcomer to Hogwarts, and not to get overly comfortable with her position.

All of this was delivered with a soft British accent. Every now and then he would make eye contact with her, to emphasize a point, and then he would continue pacing.

She was amused by the fact that he though he could control anything she decided to do. They might be alike in power, but she figured that she knew a couple of curses that he'd be totally unfamiliar with.

"Is that clear?" He directed at her. She'd been gazing off into the distance while he paced in front of her. He knelt in front of her and gripped her chin in his hand, surprisingly calloused, and turned her face to him. She moved her face closer to his until her lips barely brushed his.

"Crystal," she breathed, staring into his eyes. His cheeks flushed slightly, and his eyes widened. He moved forward minutely, and she pulled away.

He released her and sat back on his heels. He scrutinized her carefully. She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

— TDV --

"Yes?"

An almost kiss. An almost kiss from a girl he didn't know but over whom he supposedly had full authority. He could do whatever he liked to her, but was not allowed to possess her fully. The Dark Lord had given to reason why, but had been adamant. And not five minutes into their first meeting, they'd had an almost kiss.

She'd made him forget about Pansy Parkinson, his betrothed, for a whole five blessed minutes. During his litany of rules for her to follow, he was secretly plotting ways to spirit her to his room and lock the door.

He was curious as to what she would sound like unstrung with passion.

This girl was dangerous.

Dangerous, indeed.


	3. Expectations

Greetings once again. Welcome to chapter three, I have gotten one excellent review, and would like more, please. One quick question though, what the hell is Mary-Sue?? I've come across it several times, but still don't understand it. A little help??

Me-- Tamaska

Me-- Not J.K. Rowling

And without further ado, here is chapter three!

**The Dreaming Viper**

Chapter Three: Expectations

Aiden looked at his sister and smiled. Aisling met with the Malfoy heir the night before, and he could see that she had young Draco wrapped around her finger already. He'd watched her charm her way into the exclusive parties at Salem and led most of the male population, both magical and Muggle, on a merry chase.

A right vixen, Aisling Blake. The boys at Hogwarts didn't stand a chance.

None of the boys at Salem did. Nor did they know what her pretty exterior hid, or what thoughts flashed behind the grey eyes. Or the power her little body held.

Despite being five years her elder, Aiden was a little bit afraid of Aisling. He had graduated the same year she started at Salem, but he'd seen enough in her own personal research to know that she'd be a force to be reckoned with the older she got.

And then when the group of 'terrorists' decided to demolish a Muggle building in New York to prove their point, he knew that her power would be harnessed by someone, it was just fate that it had been a British warlord. It could just as easily been the Chairman of the Board of Magicks, or the Indian Ministry of Magic. I could have been anyone.

She'd flown up the ranks in America, in both lessons and combat potential. If they'd stayed in Montana, she would have been offered a position with the Military in Magical Combat.

Both Sean and Aisling understood why they had to relocate to Britain. Their father had been on the threshold of receiving the Mark when the Fall occurred. When a one-year-old infant had managed to banish a wizard of tremendous power. Aiden had been seven years old at that point, so moving across the sea to the United States wasn't a big deal. Sean had been almost four, and Aisling was a month younger than Harry Potter. Their parents had taken posts in the American seat of the Department for International Magical Cooperation, and had enrolled them in American schools as they got older.

He'd enjoy watching an American combat-trained witch take a bunch of British boys by the balls and tell them the ways of the world. They wouldn't know what hit them.

— TDV --

"Professor, the Blake family is waiting down below." A small man in a portrait spoke respectfully to the old man below.

"Ah, thank you, Abner, I shall collect them myself." Albus Dumbledore unfolded himself from his chair with a smile at the portrait and strode to the door. He reappeared moments later with a man, a woman, and a boy and girl.

"Professor Dumbledore, thank you for meeting with us. You can't imagine what a relief this is." Alexandra Blake's voice shook slightly. Aaron's hand rested on her shoulder, and their children exchanged nervous looks. Dumbledore led them into his study, conjuring more chairs and pouring out a fine red wine for the adults.

"Now, what can I do for you?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly. Alexandra bit her lip and looked to her husband.

"Do you remember me, Professor?"

"Of course I do, Mr. Blake. You played Chaser on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, were awarded the post of Prefect in your fifth year, and graduated with eight NEWTS, if I remember correctly." The blue eyes twinkled. "And you, Alexandra Da Bonci, were highly regarded by Horace Slughorn, who recommended you to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as an Auror trainee."

Both Alexandra and Mason smiled. They relaxed into the chairs and sipped their wine, smacking their lips in appreciation.

"We need your help. We understand that you have been aware of the recent political situation over in the States?"

"I am." Dumbledore nodded gravely.

"Good. After the Twin Towers went down, the few Muggles aware of the Magical World became suspicious. A couple of things didn't make sense, they said, such as the way they collapsed. They said there had to have been additional explosives hidden within the supports of the buildings. But when they dug through the rubbish and didn't find any, they said we had to have had something to do with it."

Alexandra's voice shook. Mason placed an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. Dumbledore smiled kindly on her.

"Anyway," Mason continued. "Alexandra and I transferred out of New York to a small town in Montana, and moved Aisling and Sean out of the New York Academy of Magic to the Montana branch of Salem Academy. They've followed us, and I didn't see any way to keep our children safe without exposing us. We hoped you can help."

Professor Dumbledore was silent.

"You have been good for this country, and we lost two very valuable resources when you left." His voice was silent, but held infinite kindness. "What do you wish me to do? If it lays within my power, I shall see it done."

Alexandra took a deep breath. "Let Aisling attend Hogwarts."

Dumbledore laughed.

"Why, if that's all you ask for, we will do a private Sorting here after we have concluded our meeting. I'm sure she will be a credit to this school just as her parents were. What of Sean?"

"Graduated Salem year before last." Mason's voice cracked with relief. "Thank you so much, Professor Dumbledore, you can't imagine what this means to us!"

"Not at all, Mr. Blake. However," he added. "We must make it clear to Aisling that she will be an oddity. I have only accepted one transfer student since I assumed Headmastership, and there will be a lot of questions. I don't usually do this, nor would any of my staff, but I believe a child of two alumni will pose no threat to my other students."

Mason and Alexandra nodded. They shared the briefest of looks and focused back upon Professor Dumbledore. The professor had risen from his cushioned chair and strode around the desk to a shelf upon which an old tattered hat. He looked past Alexandra to where Aisling sat and gestured her forward.

Aisling swallowed her repulsion as the elderly professor placed an ancient pointed hat on her head. It slid down her face but caught on one of the points of the barbell in her eyebrow.

"Hmmm... Aisling Blake." An old voice croaked in her ear. She jumped slightly. "Power. Almost uncontainable power. A noticeable lack of scruples, but a streak of charm. Gryffindor, perhaps. But wait... power the Dark Lord would covet. Slytherin, then. Yes, Slytherin."

Aisling heard the hat shout out the name of her new house and felt a thrill of satisfaction. She tugged the hat off her head and handed it back to Dumbledore, who took it with a pensive look.

"If it suits you, Miss Blake, I would have you arrive at Hogwarts on August 31 for a tour and to meet with Professor Snape, your Head of House. I would like to know what courses you studied at Salem, and what subjects interest you. We shall see you in a month, then."

Aisling smiled at Professor Dumbledore, and turned to leave. Mason and Alexandra thanked him again and followed Aisling and Sean out the door and down the spiral staircase.

The whole party was silent until they passed through the gates flanked with winged boars. They turned onto the main road to Hogsmeade and simultaneously Disapperated and reappeared at the gates of Malfoy Manor.

"Yes?" A tinny voice inquired.

"We have news for the Dark Lord. Phase One is complete."


	4. Questions

Welcome back! I know this chapter's kinda short and without a lot of action, but I've got a lot going on at the moment. I'm gonna try to update fairly regulary, probably every other day, but if it doesn't happen, it doesn't happen.

I have two wonderful reviewers, one who gave me some excellent advice, and the other who explained a term I didn't understand. I'm gonna be corny and say, "UnicornsMystique and skeleton.gold, this chappie's for you!"

Yay corniness! XD

Oh, and by the way, the quote I stole is from Jaqueline Carey, an American author I've fallen in love with. I thought it was a good quote that kinda fit the circumstances, so flame for it if you wish, they will merely be used to fuel a barbeque that you will not be invited to.

I obviously don't own Harry Potter.

**The Dreaming Viper**

Chapter Four: Questions

- flashes of forest -

- a mysterious girl with flowing hair -

- bushes and patches of nettle -

He began to breathe fast, his head shaking as he skirted a massive tree that rivaled Hagrid for size. Her feet made no sound as they hit the ground, but his feet thudded along with an irregular rhythm. She flew. He barely kept up.

"_It's not fair,"_ he thought as her pace quickened.

His foot slipped on a root and he felt himself fall. He threw his arms up in front of his face as the ground rushed up at him. His scar burned.

"Harry!" A female voice shrieked. "Mrs. Weasley, I think he's awake!"

Harry tentatively cracked an eye open and was blinded by the sun. He was lying on his back in the paddock the Weasleys' used for Quidditch, and there was a dark ring around him of people of various sizes and colors crowded around him.

"What happened?" He croaked. His body ached, as though Hagrid had tackled him to the ground repeatedly.

"Umm... I kind of flew into you, mate." Ron flushed a rosy red with shame. They had been playing two-a-side Quidditch with the Twins. Harry remembered that Ginny had been waving at him from the entrance to the paddock and had then been hit from the side and knocked off his broom. He stared at Ron.

"How the bloody hell could you fly into me?" He said in confusion. "I don't blend in, and I wasn't hiding."

"I just didn't see you," Ron mumbled, still redfaced. "I was flying toward you to get the Quaffle, and I sort of... didn't stop."

Ginny snorted. Harry stared at him, his mouth open.

"But... it's sunny and I'm wearing dark blue... how... I don't get it."

"Don't worry about it, dear, let's just get you some ice for your head," said Mrs. Weasley, who was plainly trying not to laugh. She'd seen many a Quidditch bump, but even she had to admit, this was one of the better ones.

Harry stood up, swaying slightly, and made his way slowly down the hill back to the Burrow.

The girl again. The second time in as many days. He hadn't had a chance to speak with Ginny yet, Ron had monopolized him all the previous day, first with Exploding Snap, Chocolate Frog Cards, evading laundry duty, and to interrogate Harry intensely about the supposed attraction Hermione held toward Ron. That last topic was painful, as Hermione had indeed spoken to Harry about Ron, and he didn't know just how to tell Ron to drop it politely.

Perhaps he could use this latest injury as an excuse to dump Ron off on the Twins and recline in the soothing presence of the girls. He felt that as they'd gotten older, he and Ron had drifted a little from Hermione. And Ginny by default.

He sighed. It was all easier to deal with before puberty. Back before Ron had seen Hermione as a girl, before Victor Krum had come into the picture, and before Ginny had grown up.

Ron had seen Hermione merely as a source of free homework. Then it seemed as soon as someone else noticed her, suddenly she was a desirable object. It was ridiculous. Then Ron had dragged Harry into it to prove a point that didn't exist, which only torqued the already existing tension.

"Ginny, when we get inside, could I have a word?" He spoke lightly, but gave Ginny a look that meant it was important.

"Yeah," she said, startled.

— TDV --

This girl Aisling Blake had potential.

Dumbledore watched her catalogue all the information he presented to her as he led her around the school the day before the rest of the school arrived. The tour had taken a surprisingly short amount of time, she seemed to soak everything up like a sponge.

"As a Slytherin, your Head of House will be Professor Snape, the Potions Master. This is his office here. After we have concluded our business here, Professor Snape is waiting to speak with you regarding your schedule for tomorrow." The elderly professor gestured toward a door much like the other doors in the dungeon corridor. "Have you given any thought on your future prospects?" He added curiously.

"I was in a military program back at Salem. I was two weeks from my qualification test to become a member of the Magical Law Internship." She said modestly. "I always figured I'd be an Auror."

Dumbledore smiled. "I shall have to introduce you to Alastor Moody, then. He's the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Auror's Office here." He glanced down at her. Her grey eyes were calculating, but her face wore a mask of delight. "He's a little rough around the edges, but I think you'd impress him."

"Thank you, Professor, I don't know what I could do to make it up to you," she said, her voice a little higher than normal due to emotion.

"No, Miss Blake, the satisfaction of seeing my students succeed in their chosen career paths is payment enough for me. If I desired monetary payment, I would not be a very popular Headmaster." He bend toward her as if imparting a great secret. She laughed.

"I'd imagine not." Her little giggle died away. "I have a question though. Where are the dorms to the other Houses?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Blake, but each House's dorm in known only to it's members." His voice flattened a little bit. This was the first time a new student had blatantly asked that question since Tom Riddle. It was unnerving.

Aisling scrutinized the Professor as these thoughts spun through his mind.

'_All knowledge is worth having_,' she thought, quoting a character from a series of books she was fond of. '_I wonder why he won't tell me?_'

Professor Dumbledore led the way back down the corridor to Professor Snape's office.

"Ah, here we are, Miss Blake. I trust Professor Snape will get everything in order, and if you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask." His voice was still kindly, but his gaze became slightly wary. It was like having a wild animal that you thought was tamed, but you weren't entirely sure. "I shall leave you for a time, but will see you again at the start of term feast tomorrow evening."


	5. Secrets

Greetings!

I know it's been a while, but I am pleased to inform you that I am in excellent health, and no, I have not died.

Anyway, here is chapter five. Thanks to all who have checked back into this, I hope I'll be able to update quicker.

I am merely the puppet master, not the creator. Well, I guess I crafted Aisling and her family, but... well, you get the point.

-- TDV —

**The Dreaming Viper**

Chapter Five: Secrets

"Harry! Ron! Wake up!" Hermione Granger's shrill voice penetrated the layers of blanket and pillow obscuring Harry's ear. He groaned and burrowed deeper. Seconds later, Hermione had seized his blanket and pulled it from the camp bed, revealing Harry clad in a pair of boxers.

Hermione eyed him and sighed.

"Come on, you two, we're already running late." Hermione turned and kicked Ron's bed. "Seriously! Don't make me come back up here!"

The two boys could hear her footsteps retreating down the stairs. This happened every year with that many boys. Hermione felt that if there had been six girls and one boy, things would have been much more efficient, not to mention punctual.

Finding Harry in boxers had been a bit of a shock. Perhaps she should have let Ginny wake them, it would have made her morning. But then again, she appreciated good eye candy when she saw it. He was unhealthily pale, but he'd always been like that, and the summer activities of wrestling, Quidditch, and random games of tag had done him well. Ron too, and he was starting to grow into his height. His nose had lost that beaky quality, and he'd gotten a little more graceful on those bloody clown feet that were as much a Weasley trademark as the red hair.

Hermione grinned. Her boys were becoming men.

"Gin, you'll never guess what I just saw..."

— TDV --

Draco stood before his trunk and slid slender hands down his slacks, pressing out invisible creases. His best mate Blaise called him a pouf, but Blaise didn't appreciate the art in which Draco Malfoy wore clothing.

First impressions were always important, could lead to future relations, or warn people off. Draco always impressed the first years by striding past them with billowing robes on their first day. It served the dual purpose of informing them exactly that he was not to be messed with, and giving them a sort of role model. By all accounts, it heightened his resemblance to Professor Snape. If Slytherin was full of Draco Malfoys and Severus Snapes, Slytherin would be invincible.

His parents hadn't been able to accompany him to King's Cross. Lucius was still being punished for his failure in the Hall of Prophesy, and Narcissa's reluctance to hand the information divulged by Kreacher to Lord Voldemort had earned her a house arrest. So they had ordered one of the Manor's men-at-arms to see Draco safely on the train and spy on Potter.

To be completely honest, Draco really didn't care if they saw Potter. He was steadily growing weary of always being the bad guy. That and constantly being on one's guard around anyone other than a member of Slytherin was bad for his image. A Malfoy should never look paranoid or show any signs of anxiety.

Ever.

Draco slid into his black Hogwarts robes and turned to watch the door to the compartment. He had an inkling that Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini would appear soon, and then he would probably catch a glimpse of Potter, Weasley, and Granger. They usually chose compartments toward the end of the train, and he had purposely chosen the compartment at the head of the last car.

Students milled out in the corridor, timid first and second years, increasingly bold third and fourth years, self-important fifth years, and the sixth and seventh years who were ecstatic that freedom was on the horizon.

He made his way slowly through the throngs, smirking with satisfaction as the color drained from their faces as they saw him. A flash of red announced the arrival of the Weasley clan, with a dash of brunette and black showing their pet Mudblood and Savior. He grimaced, remembering the tapestry that proclaimed the Malfoys' relation to the blood traitor clan. It was disgusting.

"Drakie!"

Draco flinched and turned around. Pansy Parkinson had just boarded the train and she made a beeline to him. Gah. Would he ever escape the girl?

And lo, and behold, Blaise Zabini was right behind her.

— TDV --

Aisling walked through the seemingly solid barrier at King's Cross Station. Her parents had gotten all nostalgic during the trip from the country manor they'd been residing in to London, and she'd been ready to run into oncoming traffic to escape it. Mason and Alexandra had been adamant that she take their Invisibility Cloak with her despite her insistence that she could disguise herself well enough without it. But parental nagging has a way of wearing down the target and the cloak was packed in the trunk of their rented car.

"Now, Aisling, please be careful. I don't know what the Dark Lord's intentions are, but I know he's got plans for you. Do what you can for the cause, but I want you to take care of yourself above all else." Mason gazed fondly at his daughter in the rearview mirror. She'd been staring out of the window the long drive, twirling her wand in her fingers. Occasionally green sparks would fly out of the end.

He knew what his daughter was capable of, both personally and magically. He'd watched her pierce her own eyebrow and nose, which he cringed at, and watched her hand the asses of several of her brother's friends back to them on silver platters.

The year she asked for a bookcase instead of some other trivial girly thing for her thirteenth birthday only cemented the thought. A girl who prefers books over a cell phone? Highly unusual.

Mason put his arm around Alexandra's shoulders as they watched their daughter board the train with her trunk. She'd never been at a boarding school before, and he knew it would be quiet without calm presence in the family library with her nose in a book.

He was going to miss his little girl, and he feared for her safety. But she was intelligent and he was sure she'd be able to mask her mission. Exceedingly well, if her teachers were right.

He'd have to trust her.

— TDV --

Severus Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. In just over four hours, the castle return to its usual state of chaos, with two hundred underage wizards cooped in together. He'd have seven or eight new students to break, the Weasley clan, and the Golden Trio to deal with.

Damn. The summer had been so nice... time to peruse the library as his leisure, the noticeable absence of Peeves, Dumbledore had left him be, and he didn't have to clean up messes made by careless students in his classroom.

Aisling Blake. She would be a challenge, without a doubt. She'd placed high in her previous school and had therefore been allowed into N.E.W.T. classes without question. She'd been Sorted into Slytherin, and had apparently already met the Malfoy boy. Interesting. He'd gotten the impression that there was more to her than he saw. He also thought she'd seemed a little lonely.

"Severus, are you hiding down here?" Minerva McGonagall's severe voice floated down the stairs, much to his horror. He quite loathed the deputy headmistress, and her decent into the dungeons boded ill for him. Only bad things came from her calling upon him in his domain. He winced as her heels clacked against the cold stone and approached his office door, and only managed to paste an impassive expression on in the nick of time.

"Professor McGonagall." he said courteously. "How nice of you to call."

"Dear lord," she said, peering around. "Are you ever going to redecorate in here? It's as drab as a mausoleum."

Severus gritted his teeth.

"Is there anything I may assist you with, Minerva?" he asked pointedly.

"I just wanted to be sure that all is well for Aisling's arrival."

"Oh, yes, it is. She'll be dorming with Misses Parkinson, Greengrass, and Bulstrode." He said sardonically. "All is ready."

"Oh." Minerva hovered by the door. "I shall see you in a few hours, then, Severus."

"Indeed, you shall." Severus inclined his head slightly in Minerva's direction. She took the hint and departed, heels clicking up the stairs.

Severus sighed again.

It was going to be a long year.

— TDV --

"All right, be good, all of you, remember to write, I'll send you a pie next week!" Mrs. Weasley shooed her two children, Harry, and Hermione onto the train. It had just began to move slowly and they had just managed to get on before it left the platform. Hermione had known it was going to be like this, a late morning always set things off kilter.

"Hey, c'mon, there should be an empty compartment up a ways." Harry seized his trunk and started dragging it behind him, peering through windows as he walked.

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other and sighed. They pulled their wands out and levitated their trunks in front of them as they followed Harry, waving at various faces before moving on. They finally found a mostly empty compartment halfway up the next car and slid into it, joining Ernie McMillan and Hannah Abbott.

The boys heaved their trunks into the luggage rack with relief while the girls magicked theirs up with another sigh. Honestly, were the boys not wizards?

It was a typical trip to Hogwarts, the classic Quidditch discussion, abuse directed at various teachers, Hermione tuning it out with a book, and the compartment door opening with greetings from their peers, and speculation over the new DADA professor.

None of them noticed when an unfamiliar girl with metal in her face walked past accompanied by Malfoy...


	6. Outrage

Greetings!

Welcome to chapter six! I'm getting better about this whole update thing, I've been reading a lot more than I've been writing. The plot bunnies are biting, so hopefully I'll be able to get some stuff done!

I must thank UnicornsMystique, who has been a wonderful reviewer!

— TDV —

**The Dreaming Viper**

Chapter Six: Decisions

Albus Dumbledore beamed at the sea of students below him. It always fascinated him to see the changes they underwent during the summer. New haircuts, new robes, new friends, new allies.

The Parkinson girl hung over the Malfoy heir, as usual. Zabini trailed after Malfoy, as well as those two boulders masquerading as students, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. No changes with the Slytherin section, as of yet. Of course, he hadn't added the variable of Aisling Blake in yet, but the equation was pretty solid.

Luna Lovegood appeared to be converting to a Gryffindor. She sat with Ginevra Weasley. The rest of the Ravenclaws clustered together, no doubt comparing their new books, with the usual insufferable look of superiority.

The Hufflepuff table had been rather subdued ever since Cedric Diggory's death. Zacharias Smith was smugly showing off his Captain's Badge, puffing his chest to put the saffron badge in greater prominence.

Ah. There were the Golden Trio. Miss Granger had grown up a little bit, her eyes had a slightly tired cast to them, not quite as bright as they used to be. Ronald Weasley looked unchanged, still tall and gangly.

Albus snorted in amusement. At least he had made it to the table without tripping over himself or anyone else.

And Harry Potter entered the hall. Harry had been Albus's greatest failure. He'd failed that boy, but only two people knew how deeply. Albus looked to his left and met Severus's coal black eyes.

He'd failed him so terribly.

— TDV —

Aisling looked around the Great Hall. It looked much different with the entire student population within it, rather than empty.

She'd sat in a compartment in the middle of the train, quite content to soak up the quiet and solitude. The ride to King's Cross with her parents had been enough to drive her insane, and she didn't think she could handle another three hours of answering questions with false answers.

She'd just cracked open a book on the finer points of Legilimancy when Draco Malfoy and four others she hadn't met barged in. Malfoy looked much the same as he had the first time she'd met him. So much potential, she thought wistfully.

There was a girl with some seriously horrid hair. She had a severe cut, her bangs were straight across her brow, and Aisling could tell she didn't have natural black hair. Her roots were growing in, not enough to be obvious, but enough that it was obvious she had blonde hair. Her nose was slightly upturned; with a different expression on her face, it would have been charming, but with the look of slavish devotion to Draco, it heightened her resemblance to a pig.

Two of the boys were prime football material. They were the type that you pointed in a direction and made sure you stayed out of their way. One was slightly taller than the other, and one had dirty-blonde hair rather than dark brown. Other than that, she couldn't see any difference.

The last boy was gorgeous. He had long dread locks, but they were well cared for. His chocolate eyes were accentuated by dramatic cheekbones. He had a killer tan.

Gorgeous, no other word.

"Blake."

Draco's voice held the same drawling quality that it had before.

"Malfoy." She replied coyly. She knew she'd thrown him off last time they'd met, and was amused by his reaction. He took the seat across from him, and the others filled the compartment.

"Oh, please, join me, I'm dying of loneliness...." She said, sarcasm dripping off her words.

"I know," he said with a shrug. "I'm just a lifesaver, I suppose."

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"I see you have your little posse with you..." She doubted this little aristocratic pussy could stand up to her, even backed by his goons. Her oldest brother had a gang as well, the weak gravitating toward a leader.

"Posse?" The Italian said, incredulously. "Did you just insinuate that I am a member of a posse?"

"Am I wrong?" Aisling raised a brow at him, appreciating the darkened expression on his face.

"Ah-hmm." With an aristocratic clearing of his throat, Draco once again drew all eyes to himself. Blaise still looked miffed, and the ghost of a smirk graced Aisling's lips.

"Anyway, Blake, being the kind soul that I am-" Blaise snorted. "-I thought that I would introduce you to Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Chances are that you will share a dorm with Pansy."

Aisling was unimpressed. She looked from the pig girl to the gorgeous Italian and back to Draco.

"Okay. Introduction made. Shut the door on your way out."

Draco gaped and spluttered. How dare she? Pansy mirrored his expression of disbelief.

"Nice, Blake," sniggered Blaise. "You just might fit in..."

Aisling's expression never changed. She looked back to Blaise, who was eyeing her appreciatively. The corner of her mouth quirked up slightly.

"Did you not hear me, Malfoy?" She said pointedly.

"Oh, I heard you, Blake," Draco's eyes were cold, glaring at Blaise who was still chuckling. "I am merely allowing you the opportunity to realize to whom you are speaking and rephrase your statement."

Blaise and Pansy fell silent. His resemblance to his father was rather eerie, and a chill emanated through the compartment.

"Hmm. Seems to me I'm speaking to a spoiled little boy pretending to be his father," she said idly, examining her nail polish. She'd chipped one of her nails sometime during the day. "Am I wrong?" she added, glancing up to see Draco's mouth open unflatteringly. Blaise let out a great shout of laughter, looking at Aisling with approval. She looked back at Malfoy, who had closed his mouth and was currently looking back at her with a mixture of outrage and loathing.

"Problem?" she asked him sweetly, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"None at all," he spat back, drawing himself up. "Watch yourself, Blake, not everyone is as tolerant as I am."

He stood up and strode toward the door, glancing disdainfully at her over his shoulder. Pansy leapt up to follow her, but Blaise leaned back on the seat across from her.

"That took some ballocks," he said, amusement coloring his voice. "Last kid to call Draco a spoiled brat ended up in the hospital wing with little tentacles growing out of his ears and nose."

She shrugged.

"Anyway, Draco's introduction left much to be desired," he continued. "I'm Blaise Zabini. I'll be pleased to escort you up to the castle, if you wish."

She fixed him with a stare and a lazy smile.

"I guess the rumor that all Englishmen are polite and courteous is true, then?" she said, the smile playing around her lips.

"Ah, ma sono Italiano, sappiamo il valore di cortesia... fra le altre cose." he purred at her, eyes growing dark and seductive.

"I'll be quite all right on my own, thank you," she said, eyes narrowed slightly. "Anyway, seems like the great Draco Malfoy can't operate without his faithful lackeys kissing his ass... run along."

Blaise recognized the dismissal and obligingly made for the door of the compartment.

"Fuoco così squisito... finché incontriamo di nuovo, la mia signora."

She glanced in his direction once more, watching as the door clicked shut.

—[ TDV ]---

"Welcome!" Dumbledore opened his arms wide and beamed at the assembled school. He suppressed a smirk as the Weasley children looked longingly at their plates. Their appetite was insatiable and well known.

"A few items of business, and then our scrumptious feast," he assured them. "Firstly, I am delighted to reintroduce Remus Lupin, who has once again consented to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

Lupin, who had remained unnoticed while the students poured into the Great Hall, stood and nodded. Many students, mostly from Gryffindor, stood and cheered, but the rest of the school muttered to their neighbors. They remembered that the Defense professor was a werewolf.

"Secondly," the old man continued. "I would like to introduce the new Head Boy and Girl. Ernie MacMillan will fill the post of Head Boy, while Hermione Granger will be the Head Girl."

A few cheers greeted his words. Everyone in the hall knew Hermione Granger would be the Head Girl, but MacMillan was an interesting choice.

"Thirdly, and finally, we have a new transfer student." Dumbledore smiled and gestured at Aisling to stand up. "Her name is Aisling Blake, and she is from the United States. Her parents returned to Britain to help in the fight against the Dark forces, and she will be joining us for the duration of the year. Please make her feel welcome!"

The new girl gave a lazy wave, the light from the enchanted candles glinting off of the ring in her nose. Murmurs filled the halls.

—[ TDV ]---

Harry's lips ghosted across Hermione's ear. She shivered.

"Are her parents in the Order?"

She shook her head and shrugged. She had a better idea of who was in the Order than most of the others, mainly due to her academic interest. She could pretend she was in the library for a certain book and eavesdrop, and few would find her out of place.

She hadn't noticed any members with the surname 'Blake,' or indeed, anyone who looked remotely new.

"I dunno," she whispered back. "But even if they are, she's been Sorted into Slytherin. I don't think she's for the Light, for some reason."

They both glanced back at her, noticing the dark expression and her posture. She was lounging on the bench, twirling her wand through her fingers, green sparks flying out of the end, and smirking, as though the old man's words amused her.

It was unnerving.

They watched as Blaise Zabini leaned in toward her, murmuring something in her ear. She turned her head, her mane of ebony hair swinging over her shoulder.

Harry stiffened. It was familiar. It brought back the scent of pine, an overwhelming sense of exhaustion, and a laugh he couldn't quite hear.

First Voldemort and now her?

What the hell was this American doing invading his fucking dreams?!?

—[ TDV ]---

Oh, by the way, our local playboy Blaise said the following:

"Ah, but I am Italian, I know the value of courtesy... among other things."

"Such exquisite fire... until we meet again, my lady."


	7. Invasion

Greetings. I must apologize for the lateness of this update, real life had been demanding quite a lot of my time. I've got a couple ideas for where I'm going next, but it'll be at least a few days before I get another chance to sit down and write them out.

I've also got a set of drabbles that are kind of fun, if anyone's interested. They're called "Regret."

And so, on with the show!

If I owned it, it would cease to be fanfiction.

**The Dreaming Viper**

Chapter Seven: Invasion

Harry sat on the bench, rigid with fury. Hermione sat by his side, rubbing his arm comfortingly. Ron sat on his other side, oblivious as usual.

The new girl turned back away from Blaise with a disdainful expression on her face, the glossy hair catching the light yet again. Another glance around the hall revealed almost half the school staring at her as well.

He could understand it, even if he didn't like it. It was the first time in memory that a transfer student had been accepted, and an American, at that. He knew there had to be witches and wizards moving all around the world, but he had assumed that they would then be home schooled.

Frowning, he returned his gaze to her.

A glitter of silver drew his attention down three seats. Draco Malfoy was scowling at her too, his upper lip curled in the expression of contempt that was usually reserved for Harry, his bright eyes dark with anger.

Harry leaned back and folded his arms. This was interesting.

The Ice Prince and the new girl, obviously a contender for the role of Ice Princess, already had problems. Trouble in paradise for the House of Snakes, it seemed. Harry smirked slightly.

As infuriated as he was about Blake's possible invasion of his dreams, he couldn't help but feeling anything that caused problems in Slytherin was a good thing.

And it seemed that Blake would deliver.

—[ TDV ]---

Aisling felt as though she sat in the middle of a very bright spotlight. Hundreds of pairs of eyes were trained on her, watching her every move, and whispering to her.

It had been explained to her that she would be unusual, being the only transfer in almost a century, but she still hadn't been prepared for this.

_Goddamn provincial English,_ she thought venomously. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned her head slightly, seeing the Italian whom Malfoy had introduced her to on the train.

"Irritating, isn't it? All those backwater morons staring, always watching..." he murmured in her ear. "It's as if they'd never seen anyone... different... before."

His voice was low and husky and it sent little tingles through her body. She bit her lip and turned away from him, angry at herself for allowing his mere voice to do that to her.

_Damn._

She focused on the golden plate in front of her. It glittered, but it wasn't quite enough to distract her from the boy sitting next to her. She glanced out across the rest of the school, seeing still more eyes. The Hufflepuff table was staring at her unabashedly, some of the younger students gaping with open mouths. Appalled, she looked at the Ravenclaw table.

_Ah, so this bloody school has at least a little bit of sophistication,_ she thought bitterly. They weren't staring at her outright, but they were scrutinizing her out of the corner of their eyes. They were talking amongst themselves, and even though she knew they were talking about her, she appreciated that they were at least not making it obvious.

The Gryffindor table was yet again different. Few of them were paying her any attention, but there was a small cluster of three or four students in the middle who were regarding her with suspicion.

A girl with glossy brown hair was eyeing her. A redhead was looking vaguely in her direction. A black haired boy with bright green eyes was radiating waves of loathing.

She raised her eyebrows at them in challenge. The green eyed boy - Potter, she assumed - narrowed his eyes, his brows meeting in a line. The girl cocked her head slightly, biting her lip.

She gave them a small smirk and looked back to the Head Table. She'd met all of her teachers last time she'd been at the school and she received a nod from a couple of them.

_So this is how it's going to be,_ she thought to herself. _This could be -_

A presence brushed her mind. It was completely foreign and utterly uncomfortable. She threw up a wall of vines and whipped around in her seat, scanning the hall for her invader.

Her eyes locked on the girl next to Potter. The girl's eyes had widened and her mouth formed a small 'O'. The boys next to her had obviously noticed nothing, intent upon their plates. She'd gone rigid, hands gripping the material of her skirt tightly in white-knuckled fists.

Livid, Aisling slammed the wall into the girl's - Hermione's, she discovered - consciousness and watched her gasp in her seat. Potter looked up questioningly at her and she shook her head, unwilling to let him know about the attack.

She let the vines wrap around Hermione's thoughts, an invisible tendril connecting them across the hall. Suddenly she knew things; she knew about Hermione's unrequited feelings for Potter, about the insecurities about herself, and certain snippets of information about the rebel group Voldemort had informed her about, the Order of the Phoenix.

_You've just handed me a lot of blackmail material, Granger,_ she sent through the vines. _That was a bad move, and I would not recommend doing it again._

Granger's brown eyes filled with horror and Aisling felt satisfied. She pushed the wall against the girl menacingly one last time and withdrew, smirking as she saw Hermione collapse slightly against the table.

"Most impressive," Blaise purred again. "Seems you're more of a Slytherin than some at this table..."

"Perhaps," she sneered back. "Stay out of my way, Zabini, you'd hate for me to damage your face."

—[ TDV ]---

Hermione tasted blood in her mouth.

She'd bitten the inside of her cheek at some point and she was lightheaded.

She opened her eyes, seeing small dots around the edges of her vision and rested her forehead in her palm.

She'd had no clue was Aisling was capable of. She'd recently become quite adept at Legilimancy, having helped Harry with his Occlumency. This was the first time she'd employed it against someone she didn't know, both to see if she could do it, and to see what this new snake was up to, why she'd been placed with Slytherin.

But she hadn't expected the counter attack. It was like nothing she'd ever seen before. McGonagall had allowed her to attempt to breach her defenses at one point, and she'd been met with an invisible force keeping her out. It was like having an open book before her, but with a translucent screen in front of it obscuring the words.

Aisling's shield had been completely different. It was solid... distracting.

It unnerved her.

"'Mi?" Harry asked her, peering into her face. "Are you all right?"

"Y-yeah..." she muttered back, not meeting his eyes. She though about what Aisling had said, about having a lot of blackmail material and flushed. She was certain Aisling had discovered her feelings for Harry. "Not feeling well... nip up to the hospital wing after the feast... sure I'll be fine..."

"If you're sure," he said. He didn't sound convinced, but seemed unwilling to argue with her.

The feast was an eternity. She peered cautiously at the Slytherin table, sighing in relief when she saw Aisling speaking with Zabini. Ron shoveled down a mountain of food on the other side of Harry, and Harry himself was eyeing a bowl of mashed potatoes with a gleam in his eye.

She pushed around the food on her plate, toying with it, and trying not to breathe in the scents of the pork chop and carrots - the smell of food was nauseating.

So she sat on the bench, quivering slightly, as her friends and the rest of the school gorged on the magnificent spread before him, fearing retribution from the new snake across the hall.

—[ TDV ]---

Blaise sat on the bench and smirked. He didn't know exactly what happened between Granger and Blake, but he knew that Blake had the upper hand.

He'd been turned on by the raw power he'd seen behind her eyes, both like and unlike the power Draco exerted. Draco's power was more divine, whereas Blake's was carnal.

He almost wished they were back in the Middle Ages, imagining her in a tight corset in a position of power, and himself as her valiant knight, longing to lay down his honor in defense of her own.

It was heady.

—[ TDV ]---

Aisling sat and listened to the chatter of the school absently. She was vaguely aware of Blaise on one side waging a mental battle and of Draco and Pansy across from her. The professors talked amongst themselves at the Head table, and she was aware of Granger quivering in her chair between Potter and the other boy, Weasley.

After an eternity, Dumbledore stood, silence sweeping across the hall.

"Well now, you made quick work of our wonderful feast, as always, and now I believe your beds beckon. First years, please follow your prefects, and I wish you best of luck in your lessons tomorrow morning!"

Dumbledore beamed around and sat back down, leaning over to whisper in Professor McGonagall's ear. Aisling yawned.

"May I escort you to your dormitory?" Blaise stood and extended a hand to her, a polite smile gracing his dark features. She stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"No, I'll be quite alright on my own."

She turned on her heel and left the Great Hall, turning down the corridor that led to the dungeons. After sliding through the wall with the muttered password, she climbed the stairs and pushed the door of her dormitory open.

Pansy was sitting on her bed already, setting a wizarding photograph of herself and what Aisling presumed was a younger Draco on the bedside table. She was chatting with another girl, with long brown hair and blue eyes.

"Ah, Blake." Pansy shrieked, provoking a wince. "This is Daphne Greengrass, heir to the Diogenes-MacPherson Divinatory Fortune."

"Ah," sighed Aisling disinterestedly.

"So what do you think of Hogwarts so far?" Greengrass asked her. "Any cute boys caught your eyes yet?"

"Umm -"

"Oh, I know, us English must not be anything on your California boys, I know!" gushed Pansy.

"I've actually never been to Cali -"

"I've heard that you can get anything you want in the States, for the right price, of course," said Pansy to Daphne.

"Well," began Aisling as she crossed to her bed, appalled. "I think it's kinda the same as here, a lot of boys who think they have a chance..."

"Oh, I know," replied Pansy. Wide-eyed, she sat down on her bed cross-legged and stared at Aisling. Daphne followed suit.

_Damn,_ Aisling thought to herself. _Do these bimbos ever breathe? This is going to be a long year..._

—[ TDV ]---

Anyway, thanks for reading, hope you'll review!

V


	8. Complications

Hey!  
Told you I'd have it out in a couple days!  
Hope you enjoy, and reviews totally make my day!  
If I owned it, it wouldn't be fanfic.

---[ TDV ]---

**The Dreaming Viper**

Chapter Eight: Complications

The first few days passed in a flash.

Hermione Granger continued to influence the bell curve in her classes, Harry Potter's actions continued to draw attention, and Draco Malfoy terrorized a new batch of first years.

Snape was still his greasy self, McGonagall caused an uproar again by transforming into a cat during her first year class, people were in two minds about the return of Professor Lupin, and Trelawney's asinine predictions provoked yet more sniggers.

All was well.

Aisling Blake was an enigma. She rarely talked, she rarely offered answers in class, and she rarely got anything wrong.

Draco Malfoy in particular seemed to have a problem with her, evidenced by continued mutters of 'goddamned attention whore,' and 'don't know what anyone sees in her, just an ill tempered bitch...'

Hermione Granger also seemed wary. There was no apparent reason, but whenever she saw Aisling Blake in the hallway, she'd duck behind Harry or Ron. Their first few pieces of homework were returned with identical marks, and they both seemed to have commandeered two tables in opposite sides of the library.

Other than being American - or at least, American raised - and that her parents were helping Dumbledore somehow, nobody knew anything about her.

Her roommates didn't even know much. After that first night, they'd launched interrogations at her with little result, and they seemed to have given up.

"God," Pansy had muttered bitterly to Daphne. "I bet it's like rooming with Granger... thought we'd have fun with a new girl."

And Daphne had agreed with her, shooting dark looks across the library to where the girl in questions was scribbling over an Advanced Transfiguration essay.

But little did the two Slytherins know that the piece of parchment perched in front of a propped open text book was not an essay.

_Dear Mom,_

_Just wanted to let you know how everything's going, what I'm doing, and what I need you to do. Also, people are getting suspicious that I haven't written home yet. Idiots._

_I managed to get into the Restricted Section of the library, and I think it has part of what I need. I need you to write a note to Dumbledore saying I can have permission to access it on a regular basis, just make something up about furthering my academic opportunity, or something like that._

_I do have a problem. The Malfoy kid is driving me insane. I remember what his father was like, and this Draco is a watered down, unleaded facsimile. It would be funny if it wasn't so pathetic._

_I made contact with Potter's friend, Granger. She attempted Legilimancy during the opening feast. I didn't hurt her, but she'll remember it. I'm half expecting some sort of revenge attempt._

_Anyway, that's about it. Just loads of research and little progress. Damn. Tell the boys I love them._

_Love_

_Aisling_

Blaise Zabini leaned against a shelf with his arms crossed, watching her. His eyes were hungry, and his sensual lips were set in determination. A hoard of third year Hufflepuffs hid around a corner, peeking at his imposing figure and giggling. He cast a disgusted look at them and they ceased, but he heard them resume seconds later and rolled his eyes.

He heard footsteps behind him and looked to see Granger. He smirked. He still didn't know what happened between the two witches, but he was still curious.

Granger rooted around in the shelf a few feet down from Aisling's hunched figure. Aisling glanced over her shoulder and met Granger's eyes, with entertaining results.

Granger's eyes widened almost comically and she hurriedly swiped her bangs out of her face.

"B-Blake..."

"Yeah?" Aisling said graciously, a small smile playing around her lips. She gave her chair a quarter turn and lounged it in. Blaise smirked.

"Do... do you have _Polozii's Theory of Definitive Equations_? I saw it's missing from the... shelf..." she stammered, eyes locked on Aisling's grey ones. Blaise stifled a laugh. He'd never heard her sound like that.

"Yeah, I do," she replied lightly. "You can have it if you answer something for me."

"Is it a homework problem?" asked Granger hopefully.

"No." said Aisling shortly. "You can tell me where you learned Legilimancy. I know for a fact that it's not taught here, and that you're Muggleborn. So don't tell me your Great Uncle Phillip taught you. It won't work."

"Why do you want to know?" snapped Granger defensively.

"Let's just say I have a vested interest in your answer."

"Why would that matter? Legilimancy isn't arcane, nor is it illegal. All you need is a skilled Legilimens or Occlumens," Granger started to babble, glancing around her as if looking for the closest exit.

"Granger. Enough." Aisling said emphatically. "As much as your prattling amuses me, it is not answering my question."

"Oh."

"Now, are you going to answer me willingly or forcibly?" Aisling continued. "You remember what happened last time, I'll assume, do you really want to risk it again?"

_Last time?_ Blaise thought. _Ah, so that's what happened at the feast..._

"Do you?" repeated Aisling.

"Not particularly," snapped Granger. Blaise grimaced; that was what he was used to her sounding like. "Since you'll have the answer anyway, I learned it from Remus Lupin."

"The Defense professor?"

"Yes. We were both staying at the same place one summer, and it was the perfect opportunity to learn." She looked at Aisling shrewdly. "We didn't really get a chance to get to Occlumency, though. It was probably obvious."

"Fairly." agreed Aisling. "He did a good job, though, with the Legilimancy."

"I-I'll pass along the compliment," stuttered Granger, sounding surprised. "Did you learn Occlumency at your school in the United States?"

"No."

"Where did you learn it then?"

"Don't worry about it."

"So I have to answer you, but you don't have to return the favor?"

"The bargain was an answer for a book. I have my answer, you can have your book." Aisling handed the book to Granger and turned back to the scroll of parchment in front of her with an obvious dismissal. Granger stood where she was, taken aback with a book in her hand.

A second later, she walked out of the library.

—[ TDV ]---

"Well, well. If it isn't Potter's loyal lackey, doing all his work for him." Draco Malfoy's voice grated on her nerves, already frayed from her encounter with Aisling Blake. She looked at him and felt her lip curl.

"You really think Harry could have gotten into Advanced Arithmancy? Honestly?" she asked venomously, almost surprised with herself. "And then you think that I'd actually do his work for him?"

"Perhaps not, on second thought," he conceded, peering at the title of the book under her arm. "So what were you doing with Aisling Blake then?"

"She had the book I wanted, so I retrieved it from her," she replied shortly. "Why does it concern you?"

"Touchy, touchy, Granger," he smirked. "One would think you're trying to hide something..."

"Only you would think that, Malfoy," Hermione snapped, losing her patience. "Just because you can't get through a day without screwing someone over, don't assume I can't."

And with one final look of disgust, she whipped her wand from her sleeve and jabbed it at his nose threateningly. He took a step back and raised his hands slightly.

Sighing, she stalked away from the Ice Prince and made her way up to the common room, terrifying several misbehaving second years with dire punishments if said misbehavior should continue.

_Damn Slytherins!_

—[ TDV ]---

Severus Snape had a problem. Two essays sat in front of him, handed in early, with nearly identical marks. As much as the girl annoyed him, he couldn't deny that Granger's work was exemplary. And to his slight shock, the essay handed in by Aisling Blake was three points higher than Granger's.

This really shouldn't have surprised him, he had gone to school with her mother, even though he was two years younger and in a different house. But either way, Alexandra had been a good student with excellent study habits.

He grinned. It would be amusing to announce to the class that Granger, the walking encyclopedia and notorious perfectionist, had lost the top marks to the new girl. Potter and Weasley would give him their usual looks of deepest contempt - no doubt in belief that he'd wronged Granger somehow - and Granger would stare at him, her deep brown eyes glittering with unshed tears of anger. Malfoy and Zabini would smirk at them all, the Slytherins following suit, and the Ravenclaws would give her sympathetic looks.

Granger seemed to feel that a bad mark was akin to the death of a close friend or a loved one.

It was sad.

Severus cast an eye on the door that led to his bedroom and sighed. A pile of parchment on his desk still needed to be graded, and he still needed to make a report to the Dark Lord.

But damn it, he was so tired. Long hours and exhausting students coupled with constant stress did little for his mood, which only worsened with sleep deprivation. He also tended to become overly critical in his grading, and woe any student to mutter the term 'greasy git' under their breathe when the papers were returned. He taught that particular lesson to a first year who completely massacred the first essay of the term. The other firsties had learned, though.

He'd had enough of James Potter calling him that name, among others, during his years at school, and could he really help it if he had oily skin? Was there really anything he could do about it?

Severus sighed. He knew he had a Pepper-Up potion in a vial on a shelf somewhere in his room, but he wasn't entirely sure it was worth the effort to find.

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned lightly. A few moments passed

Random thoughts clouded his eyes, trivial worries about homework, that letter to his mother he still hadn't gotten around to sending, and whether his potions professor was ever going to sleep.

_Huh?_

Severus snapped upright, his eyes flying open. He sat stock still for one moment, and then leapt into action.

He flew across the room and seized the Pepper-Up Potion and downed it, then tapped a wall with his wand. It melted away to reveal a passageway and he hurried down it.

Someone was brushing his mind with their own, and his position was precarious enough without the risk of exposure. He tapped another door and slammed it shut behind him, sinking down on a cushion. He relaxed his shoulders and fell into a meditative trance, creating distractions for the vines to wrap around. He still retained contact with the foreign mind.

_Who are you?_

There was no answer, only a tightening of the vines. Severus frowned and repeated the question. He could hear birds in the background, and shafts of moonlight over an uneven ground.

_What do you want?_

Again, no response. With a resigned sigh, he threw up his own shields. Lists of potions ingredients and instructions flew through his mind, soothing him and creating a haze that kept the foreign being out.

_Not bad, Professor, I see I need to up my game..._

The vines retreated, and his mind felt empty, his thoughts echoing in his skull.

One of his students, then. One who knows Legilimancy. Granger, perhaps?

But why would Granger invade his mind? For all she knew, he was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. And for some reason, he didn't think her shields would be a forest scene. She seemed much more like an indoor girl.

The only other student he knew of that knew Legilimancy was Draco Malfoy, and his shields were different. They were the utterly predictable dragons of his namesake, no doubt chosen to impress his father.

Severus Snape was left with two problems. He had a stack of papers yet to grade and a report to make, and now there were students attempting to pry into his mind.

"God, I hate this school sometimes," he muttered as he got to his feet and made his way back into his study.

Hell, who needs sleep when there are papers to grade?

—[ TDV ]---

Anyway, there you have it.  
I have a really good idea where this is heading, and I'd appreciate a review.  
Thanks!

^_^


	9. Retaliation

Well met!  
Here's another chapter, thanks to those who have stuck with me!  
I've got a really good idea, we'll see how it turns out.

---[ TDV ]---

**The Dreaming Viper**

Chapter Nine: Retaliation

Harry Potter was always conscious of where she was. He didn't make a direct effort to search for her, but he always seemed to know where she was. He would occasionally catch a glimpse of dark hair whipping around a corner, of a figure hunched over a scroll of parchment or a heavy book, or overhear one of the professors comment on her high scores or a counter point she had made in their latest class.

She was a low hum in the back of his mind, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out how she'd gotten there.

It wasn't that he'd discovered something new about her. It had been several years since that had happened, and he'd listened to Ron spout everything he knew about her all the previous term. In copious detail. Multiple times.

She hadn't done anything different, not that he could tell, and she hadn't said anything to him out of the ordinary.

He'd simply looked down at her during the start-of-term feast and things had _changed._ She'd glanced up at him from under her lashes with a vulnerable expression and from that moment on, he'd been hyper-aware of her.

She'd pass in front of him in the portrait hole and he'd catch the scent she wore, a mixture of lavender and jasmine. She would ask him to get books off of shelves for her, his six foot frame dwarfing her five foot four height. She would lean forward in her desk, a curtain of dark hair swinging to cover her face, the sunlight glinting off of the reddish highlights.

He would watch her expression when her hand shot up to answer a question. It was a mixture of excitement, defiance, and satisfaction, occasionally turning smug when she was rewarded with house points.

It was unique, endearing, and completely and utterly Hermione.

But she was off limits. She was Ron's, and he couldn't help but feel guilty when a flash of bright copper hair and chocolate eyes obscured his vision as Ginny Weasley threw herself ritually upon him as they studied.

If these observations bore any fruit, they would both lose the Weasley family. Even though Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had claimed him as their own multiple times, if he estranged himself from two of their children, he couldn't help feeling like they would choose their children over himself.

And it wouldn't be fair to do that to Hermione, either. She had done nothing to incur the Weasleys' wrath, and he would be damned before he was the cause of it.

But damn, she had become a constant distraction in times when he needed to be constantly vigilant.

Harry sighed to himself as he saw the portrait hole open and watched Hermione carefully clamber through. Then he frowned as he saw the look on her face. She glanced around the common room and adjusted the heavy book under her arm, striding to the door leading to her Head Dormitory. She had tapped it with her wand and slid neatly through it before Harry had stood up.

He followed her across the room, ignoring the stares and smirks, and knocked on the door.

"Yes?" came a barely discernable squeak.

"It's Harry. Can I come in?"

The door opened an inch and one dark eye appeared, glittering with unshed tears. His frown deepened and his eyes narrowed. Without waiting for permission, he slid his fingers around her door and pushed, forcing her back several feet. He closed the door behind him with a snap, and turned to eye her closely as he leaned against the door.

She had turned from him, head bowed and arms crossed.

"What happened?" he asked softly. "Did Ron...?"

"No. Ron has nothing to do with anything," she sniffled, her voice muffled. "Thank Merlin."

Harry raised his eyebrows. Though he privately agreed with the sentiment, it wasn't something he expected her to say, especially considering their involvement. He went around her to face her and lifted her chin with a finger.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" he coaxed her gently. "Is it something I can help with?"

She met his gaze for a brief second and dropped it just as fast, the tears shining on her cheeks.

"Nothing... just an argument with that new girl, Blake," she stammered. "Nothing to worry about, nothing I can't handle..."

Harry closed his eyes and bit his lip. The fury that had consumed him during the feast returned, bathing his vision in red and beating in his ears. She'd invaded his dreams, stolen Hermione's top marks, and now she was damaging his friends. His hands curled into fists and his fingernails dug into his palms.

"Harry. Harry!"

He opened his eyes to see Hermione standing in front of him, one hand clenching the material of his sleeve and the other one pressed against her chest. Her lip quivered.

"Please don't do anything!" she moaned. "I have enough problems without that, too, promise me you won't do anything!"

"The hell I won't!" He looked down at her incredulously. "You won't tell me what she did yet you expect me not to do anything?"

"That's exactly what I'm asking!" she cried, biting her lip and taking a step forward. "It's girl business. You'll just make it worse!"

"I'll make what worse?!"

"Don't worry about it!" she sniffled firmly. "Promise me!"

Her eyes were wide and honest, desperate and pleading. Harry stared into them, feeling his resolve crumble with each passing second. His fury was still there, but it was buried underneath his primal desire to protect this little woman in front on him.

It was beyond frustrating.

He was suddenly aware of her hand on his arm and of how close she was standing. The tears running down her face reminded him irresistibly of his ill-fated kiss with Cho Chang in the Room of Requirement a year and a half previously, but at the same time, it was... different.

This wasn't Cho. He hadn't lusted over this girl for two years. He'd shared more than two dozen words with her in two years. If he broke this girl's heart - or indeed, if she broke his - he would lose more than he could ever gain back. Ever.

He felt his head lower to hers without his command and watched her head tilt up to his. His eyes zeroed in on her lips and -

He froze. He recalled a mental war he'd waged not five minutes previously about how the person in front of him was completely, utterly, and totally off limits.

Completely.

"Fine," he sighed. "I won't say anything. But if it happens again, I swear to Merlin..."

"Nothing will," she said firmly, with an emphasizing squeeze on his forearm. He gritted his teeth.

"You'll tell me if anything does?"

"Nothing will. But yes," she added, seeing him open his mouth to argue. "If, for some reason, I have another argument with Aisling Blake, I will tell you immediately."

"Good girl," he growled, fists clenching again.

He turned around and pulled the door open again, sending scathing looks at the students smirking at him knowingly, and stomping up the stairs.

He wouldn't do anything to her, but it didn't mean he wouldn't find out as much about her as he could.

—[ TDV ]---

Dumbledore looked over Aisling's file and frowned slightly. He was a little embarrassed to admit to himself that he had not accessed the file before admitting her to Hogwarts, sure that Alexandra and Mason had raised an honorable child.

Now, however, he wasn't so sure. Her marks were exceptional, and most of the professors had left glowing remarks, but there were little things that tainted this perfect record.

Professor Snape had remarked upon her above average powers of concentration. Professor McGonagall had noticed her proficiency at wandless and nonverbal magic. And Professor Trelawney, in one of her sherry-soaked moments, had whispered fanatically that her aura was radiating waves of darkness.

He'd written it off at the time, but it had begun to niggle at the back of his mind as he began watching her himself. Something had happened between her and Miss Granger, something he wouldn't have noticed had he not been paying attention to Miss Granger himself. She and Mr. Malfoy seemed to have some tension as well, though he could see little reason.

He'd caught little glimpses of her as he passed the classrooms, either lounging in her chair with an indolent expression or hunched over a scroll, looking remarkably like Miss Granger. Her behavior in the corridors was again unusual. Most students would talk with others, or at least engage in some form of communication, but Aisling Blake moved in the hallways like mist. She skirted around the younger students, avoided the older ones, and moved fluidly, much like a leopard. Most people did not notice her until she passed them.

It was remarkably similar to Tom Riddle's first two years at the school. A tremendous amount of talent, but few social engagements.

One thing that Dumbledore thought most about was Severus Snape. Aisling Blake had some sort of interest in the potions professor, and for the life of him, he could not figure it out. She always seemed to be watching him, studying him, memorizing him. His first thought was of some sort of clandestine affair, but his sense caught up with him. Even if Miss Blake was interested in older men, even he had to admit being slightly repulsed by his personal hygiene habits. But he also understood them; while being a double agent for him, Severus also had the added stress of being a teacher at a notoriously difficult and dangerous school. Add that to the personal trauma he suffered when Lily Evans was killed, and one really couldn't blame him. There were days that Albus was amazed that Severus had the will to get out of bed in the morning.

And for some reason, Aisling Blake was interested in him.

—[ TDV ]---

"Ah, Miss Blake," said the old man, gazing at her over his steepled fingers. Aisling snickered. She had a mental image of the old wizard Gandalf doing that very thing during the mission to destroy the Ring. "I trust you're settling in well at Hogwarts?"

"As well as can be expected, I think," she replied, imagining Dumbledore exchanging his wand for a gnarled staff. "I'm not really having any problems, in any case."

"Oh?" Dumbledore's gaze sharpened. "I heard from a few members of staff that there seems to be some sort of problem between you and Hermione Granger."

"Granger?"

"From Gryffindor? The only competition you seem to have in academics?"

"Ah." Aisling paused, as if trying to figure out how to phrase it. "She took... exception... to something I said in the library. She wanted a book I was using and got upset when I did not immediately hand it over. I merely suggested that she wait for five minutes while I finished the essay I was working on, then I would be delighted to let her use it."

"I see," said Dumbledore slowly. Another pause. "What kind of classes did you take back at Salem Academy?"

"Mostly combat magic these last few years..." she mused. "Advanced Combative Techniques, Dueling IV, Advanced Potions, Charms, Advanced Astronomy."

"Most impressive. How are you getting along with Miss Parkinson and Miss Greengrass?"

Aisling snorted. "I don't talk to them, they don't talk to me. Trust me, it's best that way."

Dumbledore nodded, a small smile curving his lips. "Quite understandable. There were a few girls my year whom I'd have liked to cast a permanent Silencing Charm upon. I nearly did, too, during my sixth year."

"Was there anything else, Professor?" asked Aisling, glancing at the grandfather clock sitting in the corner of Dumbledore's study.

"No. I merely wished to see how you were doing."

"Good night, then, Professor."

_I think he knows more than he's letting on,_ she thought with a frown. _Gonna need to be careful around that senile old bat..._

—[ TDV ]---

"Goddammit, Zabini, shut the fuck up!" Draco rubbed his temple and sighed, glaring at the boy sitting across the common room table from him. "Nobody cares! I don't give a damn about how her eyes glitter like bloody diamonds in the sun!"

"Just 'cause you fancy gents," huffed Blaise. He grinned at Draco's look of outrage.

"I do not fancy blokes!" Draco's eyes had darkened. _Just like Blake's_, Blaise thought. "I've dated Parkinson for years!"

"And Parkinson might as well be a bloke, so ergo, you fancy blokes!"

Blaise looked over just in time to see a flash of purple come his way. He dodged, but not in time to avoid the mild stinging hex the blonde had sent.

"Sodding pouf..." he muttered, packing his bag and stomping up the stairs to his dormitory. Draco sighed in relief but immediately scowled.

Aisling Blake was supposed to help him. She was supposed to do the grunt work so he could keep his grades up and avoid suspicion. She was supposed to do the research, supposed to set the diversions, supposed to follow his orders.

But apart from their almost kiss the month before school started, and then their conversation on the train, they'd barely said a dozen words to each other, and the most common phrase they exchanged was either 'shut the hell up,' or 'get the fuck out of my way.'

She didn't really spend much time in the common room, didn't talk during their classes or meal periods, or gossip with Pansy or Daphne in their common room. The girl seemed impervious to Blaise's charm, either ignoring him or hexing him if he got too brazen, and she'd also managed to incorporate herself into Severus's good books.

She seemed to spend a lot of time doing research. He had no clue what exactly she was doing, but if she didn't get off her goddamned pedestal, he was going to have to send a letter home reporting it. He didn't fancy being a snitch, but he had his own mission to think about.

_I'll talk to her this weekend,_ he told himself.

—[ TDV ]---

"So I'm totally thinking of becoming an Animagus," Ron said enthusiastically to Hermione the next morning. She seemed distant, staring into her cereal bowl vacantly.

"Hmm?" she said vaguely.

"An Animagus. You know, spontaneously turning into an animal?"

Hermione stared at him for a moment before bursting into hysterical laughter.

"What?" demanded Ron, his ears flushing a lovely shade of cranberry.

"Like you could do an Animagus transformation," she gasped, tears running down her face.

"So you don't think I could do it," he stated, his face matching his ears.

"You actually think you _could_ do it?"

He stared at her for a second.

"You know, you may be the smartest witch around here, but you're also one of the biggest bitches..."

He stomped away from the table, leaving half his plate behind. He passed Harry, who had just entered the hall, but didn't say a word to him.

"What's his problem?" Harry asked, taking Ron's vacated seat and pushing the plate back.

"He actually thinks he could become an Animagus," she answered, wiping her face with her sleeves. "He couldn't do it without my help."

"You really think that?" Harry asked, staring at her. "That he couldn't figure it out on his own?"

"It's not like he's come up with anything else like that on his own," she said, focusing once more on her cereal. "I've had to help him with everything. The boy can't even write an essay without asking me to look over it."

"I ask you to look over my stuff too," Harry pointed out. "You don't think I could do it without your help?"

"Yeah, but you're Harry," she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And he's... well, he's an idiot."

"Hmm."

Ron didn't speak to her for the rest of the day. Ginny seemed distant as well.

_Well, blood calls to blood.... and Weasley to Weasley,_ Hermione thought later that night in the common room, watching Harry and Ron play chess. Harry hadn't avoided her, but he hadn't made any effort to speak to her, either.

A week passed in that fashion. She was reminded of that time during her third year, when the boys were shunning her for Crookshanks's supposed digestion of Scabbers and the confiscation of Harry's _Firebolt. _And again in their fourth year when she had attended the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum.

It was lonely. It was during one of her hours-long occupation of the library that she came to a decision. She had spotted a head of dark hair bent over another table.

"Aisling?" she asked tentatively.

"Hmm?"

"Can I sit down?" she perched on the edge of the other chair at Aisling's nod.

"Umm.... can you teach me Occlumency?"

"I... could." Aisling leaned back in her chair and scrutinized Hermione. "For a price, of course."

Hermione stared at Aisling for a long moment. She took in the piercings, the confident look, the cool eyes. She looked down at the essay, written in a neat script as small as her own. _A kindred spirit,_ she thought. _Can I trust her?_

"What kind of price?" Hermione said eventually, nervously shifting under the pressure of Aisling's gaze.

"I need you to tell me everything you know about Severus Snape."


	10. Tales of Darkness

I am so, so sorry about how long it's been.

I had planned to have this posted this morning, but there was a gas explosion in my town this morning ( type 'bozeman explosion' into a search engine and you'll see what I mean) and that was a little more important.

Anyway, this chapter was difficult to write. I don't talk like a typical American teen, so it was kind of hard for me to do this without sounding like myself.

Anyway, happy reading!

—[ TDV ]---

Ron punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape and scowled at the sliver of moonlight across his maroon bedspread. This last week had been hell - his grades had suffered, he and Harry had been strangely lonely, and he seemed to be pissing people off more than usual.

He couldn't really remember a time during their careers at Hogwarts when Hermione hadn't been around. The times during their third and sixth years had been different; even though they weren't talking, she'd still been around, occasionally lurking, to make snarky comments and disparaging sighs as she observed their study habits.

This time she'd simply vanished.

She still appeared at meal times, merely sitting down the table fifteen feet and chatting with girls he vaguely recognized as being sixth years, and she was at lessons, dutifully scribbling down everything the teachers said, but other than that, she became someone to be talked about, but not seen.

As time went on, he realized just how dependent they had both become upon her. They relied on her to correct their course work, to keep them company - no matter how studious - and to act as a buffer between their tempers and the objects of their anger.

"Goddammit," he muttered, sitting up and cracking his neck. He glanced down at his watch and sighed. It was the wonderful hour of four in the morning - the only nutters to be up this early is Hermione during exam period and the Bloody Baron, who spent his nights wandering around the Astronomy department and moaning piteously.

Feeling he had nothing better to do, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, seizing his book bag and making his way down the staircase to the common room. The fire had died down, coals making a rosy glow against the stone of the hearth. He collapsed in his favorite cushy armchair and opened a large textbook on his knee.

He scowled when he remembered how many times he'd wandered down here in the small hours of the morning to find Hermione in this exact same chair with the exact same pose.

He flicked his wand at the nearby lamp and bent his head to the text.

_This process absolutely should not be attempted by anyone without a N.E.W.T. certification in both Transfiguration and Charms, due to the high possibility of failure. A wand with a core of either dragon heartstring or unicorn hair is best suited to the incantations needed for the transformation, due to the latent magical properties attributed to the core..._

_Well,_ Ron thought to himself,_ I don't have N.E., but if Fred and George could come up with all their joke stuff without them, and since Harry's dad and the others did this when they were two years younger than I am now..._

He glanced down at the wand sitting on the table next to the lamp. Willow and unicorn hair.

Perhaps it was time to start laying some plans.

—[ TDV ]---

A month passed.

The Golden Trio seemed to have split up. No one really knew any details, but it became increasingly rare to find all three in the same place at the same time. They still had classes together, of course, but it might as well have been as though they were strangers.

Hermione Granger seemed to have taken a liking to the new Slytherin, Aisling Blake. They spent a lot of time closeted in one of the private study rooms in the library - a perk of being a seventh year - but no one knew what they were doing. They tied for top marks, but they seemed strangely alright with sharing the status.

Three people seemed incredibly curious about the two girls. Draco Malfoy favored both with his usual icy stare. Blaise Zabini pined after Aisling Blake, and had begun to give Hermione looks of... could it be admiration? And Ron Weasley's looks of disdain and disgust could rival Draco's.

Harry seemed to be holding himself neutral, unwilling to part with either of his best friends. He refused to comment when asked, but cast slightly regretful looks in Hermione's direction as he passed her in the library or the Great Hall.

Harry's marks began to decline in every class but Defense. Ron's marks, however surprisingly, began to improve in both Charms and Transfiguration, much to McGonagall's and Flitwick's bewilderment. His marks were nowhere near Hermione's or Aisling's, but they were better than they had been in six years.

No one could explain it.

—[ TDV ]---

"Come on," Hermione hissed behind her. Aisling hurried to catch up, distracted by the various portraits on the corridors outside the Gryffindor common room. "Mandragora!"

The Fat Lady swung open without opening her eyes, a faint snore following them through the portrait hole. Hermione put a hand on Aisling's arm to halt her and she tiptoed to the figure in front of the now-extinct fire.

It was Ron. His head was slumped sideways, resting on the edge of the chair. A large textbook was open across his lap and he had a scroll of parchment slipping out of his fingers. Hermione bent down and peered at the spine of the book, attempting to read the title.

"_Primal Instincts: Becoming the Animal Within,_" she mouthed, staring down on him in astonishment. Hermione crossed back to Aisling with an expression of mild shock. She seized the Slytherin's hand and tugged her around the various pieces of dilapidated furniture to a large portrait of a griffin basking in the moonlight. She tapped it with her wand and cast another curious look at Ron before sliding through the revealed door and holding it open for Aisling.

"Nice pad," Aisling remarked, casting an appreciative look at the well-appointed room. Massive oak shelves covered the walls, filled with books on almost every subject imaginable, a couch and several comfortable armchairs sat around a table in front of a blazing fireplace. A large window gave a dusky view of the great lake and a dark smudge on the horizon indicated the Forbidden Forest. A predawn glow illuminated a hairline of sky above the forest.

Hermione slid her shoes off by the door and hung Harry's Invisibility Cloak on a hook. Aisling hung her own cloak next to it and unzipped her heavy combat boots.

"Thanks. Privilege of being Head Girl, I suppose..." Hermione shrugged. "I only wish it wasn't so..."

"Red?" Aisling suggested with a smirk.

"Yeah." Hermione looked around the room again, taking in the dark red of the shelving and the red upholstery of the furniture. Even the ceiling was wallpapered in a deep burgundy. She sighed. "Not that I really mind it, it's just everywhere. I suppose I'll do something about sometime."

"Fair enough." Aisling crossed to one of the shelves and perused the titles. "Wow. _A Compendium of Agnomen Magick._ We didn't even have that one at Salem."

"That's one of my personal books. I picked that up in France during my third year from this little hole in the wall Muggle thrift shop. They had classified it as mythology, but it was too good a chance to pass up." Hermione said, excitement coloring her voice. She paused and looked at Aisling carefully.

"You know, you're not what I expected." She said softly. "After that scene in the Great Hall with the Occlumency, I expected something different."

"You're not exactly the typical Gryffindor either." Aisling countered. "I thought Gryffindors were known for their social awkwardness, pigheadedness, and bigotry. And what I've seen so far, you don't quite fit."

Hermione was quiet for a moment.

"I suppose I never really have fit." She said finally, and as she said it, she realized it was quite true. "I've always been the odd man out. Always."

"So have I."

They looked at each other, a new respect for the other blazing in their eyes. Aisling's eyes narrowed suddenly.

"Could I borrow this?" she asked abruptly, one finger on the leather spine. Hermione looked from the book to the girl and nodded.

"Can I ask why?" Hermione asked, motioning toward the couch. They sat on either end, arms curled around knees and chins resting on hands.

"I really shouldn't tell you." Aisling replied softly. "Not unless... not unless you can help me."

"Do I _want_ to help you?" she asked. "What am I helping with?"

"I have something to do. And I know there is a major question you want me to answer." Aisling looked hard at the other girl, weighing her options.

"I have several. But yeah, I know which one you mean." Hermione returned Aisling's gaze steadily. "So... are you a Death Eater?"

Aisling slowly pulled the sleeve of her robe back, revealing creamy skin marred with faint lines from the seam of her shirt and a crease where she had been leaning against the table. "No."

"Then why did we have to meet so early?" Hermione asked with raised eyebrows.

"Because I'm not supposed to have contact with you. I've been... informed... by several of my Housemates that I'm to either hex you or ignore you." Aisling shrugged. "And while their feeble threats did little to actually threaten, sometimes it's just better to avoid conflict."

Hermione nodded, remembering all the times she'd stayed silent about one of the boys' mad schemes because she didn't have the energy for a row.

"Then are you working for the Order?"

"No."

"Then who are you working for?"

"I like to consider myself as privately contracted." Aisling smirked. "But my employer is none other than Lord Tom Riddle himself."

Hermione gasped, looking around the room for perhaps an Extendable Ear that had inched under the door and the multiple wards she'd cast to repel them, or maybe Ron's red hair blazing against the dark wood of her door. Seemingly satisfied, she looked back at Aisling with wide eyes. Her hand twitched on the handle of her wand.

"I see." Aisling murmured, watching Hermione squirm in shock. "Not the answer you were expecting."

"No, it was just what I expected. I just didn't expect you to say it so bluntly." She replied in shock. "I also didn't really expect you to tell me. All that Death Eater secrecy tosh."

"I'm not a Death Eater, though. I don't have to really follow their rules." Her smile was wry and slightly twisted. "I still get the perks, though. Does that make me a sort of honorary Death Eater?"

Hermione had to chuckle at that.

"Sounds like a dubious honor, to me," she said with a grin.

"Yeah, I suppose." Aisling looked back at Hermione. "Did you know I was born in Godric's Hollow?"

"You were?" Hermione asked, wide eyed.

"Yeah," she replied. "I'm nine days older than Potter."

"I take it your family got out before Voldemort attacked Harry's family?"

"No." She said tightly, eyeing Hermione closely. "My father was part of the Auror team that showed to clean up. He was technically on parole violations for released Azkaban convicts, but it was all hands on deck that night. He talks about it sometimes. Nothing real big, just photos of Potter's father and his buddies on the floor, bottles rolling around, that sort of thing..."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah." Aisling smiled again, not surprised to see the spark of curiosity behind Hermione's shock.

"W-what happened? How did you go from daughter of a low-level Auror to a secret Death Eater operative sent in to infiltrate the school?"

"My parents had a lot to do with it." She smiled slightly. "You know how I was born in Godric's Hollow?"

"Yeah," said Hermione slowly.

"About a month after the Potters were killed, my father was approached by a bloke called Constantin van der Skep. He went to school with my parents. He asked them to help him find Voldemort."

"Whoa. Were your parents Death Eaters?"

"My mother's cousin is Alacretia Greengrass. She was involved with them from the very beginning, and she tried to get my mother to join. Yeah, Daphne's mother," she added, noticing Hermione open her mouth. "My mother was interested, they offered her a really good deal, but Dad didn't think it was a good idea at the time."

"What about this Constantin character?"

"They don't talk about him much, but from what I understand he was a Death Eater in the old days who had some wild idea that Voldemort was in Albania."

"Albania." Hermione repeated, looking incredulous. "I thought no one knew where he'd been until he came back year before last."

"But how did Peter Pettigrew find him then?" she asked with a raised brow. "I guess Voldemort hid something there years ago, and Constantin was one of the Death Eaters assigned to go with him."

"Did your father know that?"

"Haven't a clue." Aisling shrugged. "I was a little over a year old at that time, and both my brothers were under eight, so they were really nervous about getting into anything that would put us in danger."

"What kind of deal did they offer your mum?" Hermione asked, getting up from the couch and crossing to a small cabinet. She pulled out a bottle of mead and two glasses and sat back down. "Was it like a job offer?"

"Yeah. My mother specialized in Transfiguration and they thought she'd be useful. Only thing was, she'd have to leave my Dad because his grandmother is Muggleborn. I'm considered Pureblood because I'm five generations down from a Muggleborn." She grinned wryly. "And with three children, it wasn't really an option for her."

"Yeah, I could see how that would be slightly problematic." Hermione imagined Molly Weasley's reaction if someone suggested endangering her brood. "I take it that she didn't take the offer."

"Nope." Aisling stared out the window, even though the fire cast flickering reflections across the glass. "She said no to that one, but they offered her another one."

"Whoa. I've never heard of someone saying no and living to tell the tale before."

"Well, they didn't just let her go. Or my father. They offered her another post in New York, to coordinate efforts between the Dark Lord and a powerful and influential wizard called Rob Johnson. He was a burgeoning dictator in the magical community - he probably would have been as successful as Voldemort had the country been the same size as Britain. But you could probably put Britain in Montana with a little bit of room to spare."

Hermione nodded.

"So, a month after the Potters' murder, we packed up the house and hopped the pond." Aisling's voice was flat, expressionless. "They got a letter from Constantin, and three days later we were moving into a flat in Manhattan."

"Wow. How did your brothers take it?" Hermione drained her goblet and filled it again. Aisling hadn't really touched hers. "They were what, seven and eight?"

"I don't really know. They were enrolled in Muggle elementary schools, I was put into a daycare, and my mom and dad went to work as usual. And that's all I knew until I was nine years old. Then I was sitting in a classroom in New York at almost nine a.m., and suddenly my parents were pulling me out of the school. Fifteen minutes later, the World Trade Center was a pile of rubble."

"I heard about that," Hermione murmured. "I was in a Muggle school myself. It was before I got my Hogwarts letter."

"So we picked up and moved to this little town in Montana that had a branch of the Salem Institute. My brothers had been in Salem for years at this point, and my oldest brother Sean was due to graduate the next year. I technically missed the cutoff by a little over a month, but my parents were able to pull some strings and get me in just after we moved to Montana. I started out in the basic core classes, Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, and Astronomy, you know. My brother graduated, another two years passed, and then I got to choose my own subjects."

Her eyes suddenly snapped back to Hermione's, and she tossed back her mead in one gulp. She set the glass down on the coffee table and wrapped her arms around her knees.

"Meanwhile, odd things kept happening. I'd be home for the holidays and suddenly be confined to my room while we had guests. The boys would be allowed in, but not the little sister. They'd come out hours later white and shaking, refusing to say who was there or what happened. Mom and Dad would stay in their room for hours, sending Sean out for pizza or takeout. They began to get anal about my grades, upset about the smallest things, oddly rigid about things that Sean and Aiden would have gotten away with."

She sighed. Hermione watched her intently, refilling their glasses with a jab of her wand.

"It began to become too much. I hit about fourteen and started to rebel, starting fights and getting into trouble. I looked up jinxes, hexes, and curses in books, sneaking into the library after hours to get into the 'Professional Collection,' which might as well be the Restricted Section here."

Hermione nodded. She'd done the exact same thing, risking both detention and the exposure of Harry's plans. Not that he'd appreciated it, but still...

"It finally got to the point where the whole school was afraid of me, even the students in the Advanced Combat Magic classes. I got into duels all the time, and sent more than a dozen to the infirmary."

Hermione stared, mouth open.

"The other girls in my House refused to sleep in the same room, none of the boys wanted to date me - even though I know some of them wanted in my pants - and I got so lonely I began to study. So not only was I a fighting machine, I was undateable. So I began to get tattoos and piercings, magically compelling tattoo parlors until I could do them by myself."

"It's like you're writing my own story," said Hermione softly. "Except the tattoos, of course, but I'm undateable and I'm not exactly safe."

"I wasn't _tame._ It was like I'd devolved into something feral. If you pissed me off, you got hexed, end of story. I nearly castrated one of my brother's friends. After that, I decided that school wasn't an option anymore. I effectively dropped out."

"A week before my paperwork went through, the military contacted me and offered me a contract in Magical Combat. I would have shipped overseas to the war in Iraq, and would have manned the front lines. They figured that if they put magic out there, the enemy would stand no chance. You know the Israelis haven't educated their wizards?"

"No." Hermione said thoughtfully. "I don't really know much about that part of the world."

"It would have been a massacre." She shuddered. "I would have ripped them apart and then patted on the back when I got home."

"Anyway, three months ago, my parents got another letter. I didn't know who sent it, but the falcon that delivered it had a really nasty look about it. And lo and behold, the mysterious Constantin van der Skep had sent us another letter, this time summoning us back to Britain."

"Sounds like this guy is a harbinger of change. And not good changes," Hermione observed.

"Heh. He's twisted and manipulated my parents into doing things for years. One good thing about moving back here is that it gave me a convenient way out of the military." She downed the other glass of mead, her eyes slightly glazed. "And then the month before last, I had my first meeting with Voldemort."

"That explains a few things." She said. "I take it he gave you a mission?"

"Yep. Well, two, really, but one officially."

"Can you tell me?"

"Can I trust you?"

"Let's just put it this way. Harry and Ron are my best mates, but I haven't talked to them in a month. You're the only person I've let in this room, and you know more about me than either of them. You've been inside my mind, and if what you've told me today is true, you could kill me in a dozen different ways, and manage to pin it one someone else." She grinned. "Yeah, I think you can trust me."

"Unofficially, I'm supposed to be helping Draco Malfoy with his assignment." She smirked. "I, however, am of the opinion that the little rat can fend for himself."

"Ferret," Hermione corrected."

"Sorry?"

"A few years ago, one of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers turned him into a ferret."

"That would explain why he winces when my cousin Daphne talks about her neighbor's ferret," mused Aisling. "I could see a lot of blackmail potential in that."

"Oh, yeah, we've been using it for years," she replied. "So what's your official mission then?"

"I'm supposed to find out where Snape's loyalties lie."

"Good luck, we're still trying to figure that out. We've been working at that since our first year."

"I figured as much. He's hard too read. A good Occlumens, and that was my main weapon."

"What if I help you?" Hermione asked. "I have access to the teachers' lounge, and I've got Dumbledore's ear. Maybe I could get some information."

"That would be nice," admitted Aisling, her face relaxing a little bit. "But what I really need is access to the Restricted Section without suspicion."

"I could probably arrange that."

The two girls smiled at each other, both feeling like they'd finally found a friend.

—[ TDV ]---

"Merlin, look at them," muttered Ron under his breath, watching two dark heads bent over a book in the library. "Like two bloody peas in a pod."

"Just like we are?" asked Harry succinctly. "This is seriously getting old, mate."

"Who's side are you on, anyway?"

"I'm on my own side." said Harry with a shrug. "This is your fight, and I don't want to be involved. I think she was mean to laugh, but I also think you were a little out of line to call her a bitch. I think you're both at fault for different reasons."

"Bloody hell, you're turning into my mother."

Harry's eyes lingered on Hermione, regret clouding his vision. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You do that," said Ron and he stalked out of the library. Harry followed.

—[ TDV ]---

"Have you heard from Aisling lately?" Sean asked his younger brother, concern lacing his voice.

"She sent a letter last month, but other than that, not really." Came Aiden's voice from underneath his car. His legs stuck out from under the hood and Sean could see grease drip steadily onto his thigh.

"I hope she's alright..."

"It's the Malfoy boy I'm worried about," pointed out Aiden. "I can see him pissing her off. Remember what she did to Abby Whalen back in elementary school? I bet her hair is still bright green."

"I know..."

Aiden slid out from underneath the vehicle as caught his older brother's eye. He knew they were both thinking the same thing.

They knew an unfair amount of pressure was being put on their baby sister. And as strong as she was, they didn't know if she could handle everything she was being asked to do without reducing the ancient castle to a pile of rubble surrounding a crater.

"I wish she hadn't taken the job... she's barely seventeen." said Aiden. "I hope she's okay."

"So do I, bro, so do I."

—[ TDV ]---

"Who are you?" came Greyback's gruff grunt. "Identify yourself!"

"My name is Constantin." Said the stranger, drawing back the hood of his cloak. His wand appeared between the folds. "You will come with me, Fenrir Greyback, and you will appear before the Dark Lord."

"And what if I don't?" snarled the werewolf.

"I didn't say you had a choice in the matter." Constantin flicked his wand at Greyback and ropes shot out, surrounding him with silvery light, jerking him upright from his couch. "Silver rope imbued with Moon Magick. You will not escape."

The werewolf struggled for a moment and fell limp, provoking a satisfied smile from his captor. Constantin looked around the filthy hovel and wrinkled his nose. It was disgusting. But then again, so was Greyback.

"But trust me, wolf, you will be well rewarded should you participate. But you will be killed if you do not. The students of Hogwarts will learn to fear the name Greyback once more."

"Children," murmured the werewolf, barely conscious. "I like kids..."

Constantin van der Skep pressed his thumb on the inside of his forearm and smiled. Phase two was complete.

—[ TDV ]---

Anyway, there you have it.  
New characters are popping up, and things are happening.  
Thanks for reading.  
Any chance of a review?

Oh, by the way, the title of the book that Hermione got in France, "A Compendium of Agnomen Magick," means "A Compendium of Name Magick." I've decided that Agnomen Magick is a discipline that has mostly died out, sort of like the Ancient Language in the Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini. If you know the true name of something, you can control it.

Sounded like a cool idea.


	11. Sneaking Around

Well met!

I don't own it, if it wasn't obvious... unfortunately.

—[ TDV ]---

Lord Voldemort sat in the dark. It was always dark in the Malfoy Manor, especially since he'd taken up residence in its spacious accommodations. He'd ordered the large windows covered with drapes the color of midnight, and the fire was dimmed with a spell. It was in order to decrease the strain on his eyes and to make his Death Eaters ill at ease.

It worked.

He had received word from Constantin that the half-breed had been leashed, and that he was intending to pay a visit on the Blake girl at Hogwarts. It was better news than he'd gotten from Draco Malfoy. The excuse for a human hadn't even figured out a plan yet, let alone put it into action.

He sneered. When he had been in his seventh year, he had already killed his father and paternal grandparents. He'd made three of his six Horcruxes, and he'd already begun the process to lay the enchantments to brand the Dark Mark on the fledgling Death Eaters.

And the boy had achieved mediocre marks on his O.W.L.s, and neither he nor his parents were expecting much better on his N.E.W.T.s.

It made him wonder if maybe Armando Dippet was a better headmaster than Albus Dumbledore was turning out to be, which was sad when one considered the man's utter brilliance.

The only one he could think of that even came close to matching either himself or Dumbledore was the Granger girl. Pity she was a Mudblood. And a Gryffindor, to boot...

Voldemort rested his elbows on the expensive leather chair he sat in and steepled his fingers. His plans seemed to be progressing smoothly - or fairly smoothly, considering his agents - and on schedule. A small smirk graced his gaunt and frightening features.

He swilled a goblet of brandy and took a swig.

Things were progressing well. Well indeed.

—[ TDV ]---

"Harry!" shrieked Ginny, watching him as he tripped and landed on his face in the corridor. Hermione cast him an amused look before continuing on her way, hurrying to catch up with the Blake girl. It was her fault he'd fallen, anyhow.

Hermione and Aisling had been walking together, having just exited the Arithmancy classroom, and they'd run into Ron, Harry, and Ginny. All Hermione had done was shoot Harry - her Harry - a look from under her eyelashes and it was enough for him to miss the staircase and cartwheel down it.

He was hers, dammit. Hers.

She hadn't been able wheedle any information from Harry or Ron about what had happened between them and Hermione. Even with the space between them, it disconcerted her how much power the girl still had over Harry, be it a light touch on the arm when she wanted to get past him or the laden look he'd received moments before hurdling down the stairs. Ginny didn't even know if she had that much power over him, and if past events were anything to go by, she seriously doubted it.

And she didn't like that feeling. She didn't like it at all.

—[ TDV ]---

"So that's the amazing Potter, huh?" mused Aisling. "Somehow I was expecting something more..."

"Graceful?" smiled Hermione. "He fell fifty feet from a broom when we were thirteen, and lost all the bones in his arm the year before that."

"Not exactly Mr. Agile, then?"

"Not so much." Hermione pushed the Fat Lady aside and let Aisling past, closing it behind them and sending scorching looks over the staring and whispering Gryffindors. They crossed to the wall that hid her room and disappeared within.

"Still giving me those looks," muttered Aisling. "You'd think I had three heads."

"Eh, who gives a damn..."

Aisling sent scathing looks in the direction of the common room, but crossed to the couch and took her usual seat at the end.

"Any luck with Snape?" Hermione asked casually, pulling her dilapidated copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ from one of the shelves and sitting down opposite Aisling. She thumbed the pages absently until she came to a photograph of the Great Hall taken as the Founders were casting the enchantment upon it to make it reflect the weather. It was one of her favorites.

"Nothing worth writing home about," she replied, grabbing a book of her own from her bag. "And I mean that literally, the man is like a block of stone. Everything is just... predictable. He eats the same things at meals, takes the same amount of points from the same people when they do the same things, and I think he even uses the exact same lesson plans every year." She shook her head. "I can't figure him out."

"Yeah, like I said, we've been trying for years. You know," Hermione said speculatively, fingers poised over a page. "I've been thinking of starting a project. We could do it together and maybe it would give you leverage you need to crack him."

"Yeah?" Aisling said, interest painting her voice. "What kind of project?"

"Well," began Hermione, thrilled to have someone who would appreciate her idea. "You know the Wolfsbane Potion?"

Aisling nodded slowly, leaning forward and propping her chin on her palms.

"I was thinking of researching into a potion that would have the same sort of effect on vampires." Hermione smirked. "I don't know if it's possible, but it seems to me that it would cut down on the problems MLE has significantly."

"Gods," breathed Aisling, eyes gleaming. "I can't believe no one's thought of that before.... it's such a good idea."

"See, that's what I thought," agreed Hermione. "I proposed a research project last time Professor Lupin taught Defense, but he told me that it was too advanced and that I should wait. He said that it needed extensive preparation and background knowledge, not to mention a vampire to willingly test the potion. He also said that a fight with Harry and Ron was not a reason to jump into anything I might not want to finish."

"Ah. So I take it that a fight between you three isn't exactly a recent development?"

"Nope." Said Hermione bitterly. "Last time it was over a bloody broomstick that could have been cursed. They refused to talk to me for almost a month and a half over that, and then when Ron's rat Scabbers was supposedly eaten by Crookshanks, you'd think I'd eaten his firstborn child."

Aisling got up from the couch and crossed to one of the bookcases. She ran a finger down the spines of several books and finally drew out a large volume with the title _Magickal Creatures and Their Habits_ scrolled in embossed gold. She returned to her seat and opened it across her knees, thumbing through it to the section on werewolves and the Wolfsbane Potion.

"Might as well find out what we can," she explained. Hermione smiled, seeing much of herself in the American, and pulled out her own homework. She watched Aisling for a moment, observing her. Her thick hair had been pulled back into a sloppy bun, making her piercings stand out and catch the light of the fireplace. She looked something like a post-apocalyptical version of a Hogwarts student, and one almost expected to see a large sword or gun stuck on her hip. Her eyes sped across the page like Hermione herself knew her own did, and the black eyeliner she wore made her eyelashes look a mile long.

_It's not fair,_ Hermione thought to herself. _We're both social outcasts and she's the one who looks like she could kick ass. I'm just the bookworm._

—[ TDV ]---

"You do it!" hissed Ginny, punching Harry lightly in the arm. He cast a frightened gaze at her before looking back at the wall that he knew concealed the door to Hermione's quarters.

"Why are we doing this?" he whispered back, confusion knitting his brow.

"I want to know what they're doing." Ginny's face was set and her voice was cold. "Suddenly she isn't talking to you two and the next minute she's letting that bitch in the common room?"

"Look," he said tiredly. "I told you what happened. She and Ron had a fight, I stayed out of it. It wasn't my business, and it still isn't. She's not taking Aisling Blake up into the dormitory to have 'girl time' and those are her rooms. She's perfectly entitled to take whomever she chooses up there."

"Dammit, Harry, who's side are you on, anyway?" Ginny stamped her foot and crossed her arms in front of a chest. "And did you just say 'whomever'?"

"Yeah, I did." Harry looked down at her. "And I'm on my side. Hermione's an adult, and she has the right to hang out with whoever she wants. She's Head Girl, which means she has the right to allow anyone she wants in her room. I'm not going to create problems with one of my oldest friends just to satisfy your curiosity."

Ginny stared up at him in shock, her mouth slightly open.

"I didn't think you were such a coward, Potter."She turned on her heel and stalked across to the girls' dorm and disappeared. Harry sighed. He tried to solve one problem, and all it did was create another. He steeled himself and stared back at the wall.

Days later, Harry had come to a decision.

He knocked on Hermione's door. She answered, tie loosened over a partially unbuttoned shirt and barefoot, her wide cinnamon eyes meeting his haunted green ones.

"Harry," she said, surprised. "What's up?"

"Can we talk?" he answered tightly. "Now?"

"Umm," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "Aisling's here. We're working on a project. I can tell her to go for a while," she offered, looking back at him and opening her door wider.

"No, it's fine," he said, shaking his head. "I want to talk to her, too."

"Alright," she said uncertainly, moving aside to let him pass.

He stepped inside, toeing his shoes off next to the two pairs of black girls' school shoes, and dropped his bag next to them. Aisling stared at him from one end of the comfortable couch, a book open on the low table.

"Potter," she said in greeting, inclining her head.

"Blake."

Hermione took his hand and tugged him over to the couch, pushing him down and retrieving another goblet. She carefully poured an amber liquid within it and handed it to Harry, grabbing her own and sitting down in the overstuffed chair across from them.

"So what's up, Harry?" Hermione cocked her head, looking at him shrewdly. A corner of her mouth twitched as she remembered his display of grace a few weeks previously on the staircase. He flushed.

"Look," he said bluntly. "We're falling apart. Ron won't even stay in the same room if your name is mentioned, Ginny is hacked off at me because I won't take her side, and most of the House cringes every time you two come in through the portrait hole. I know," he added, raising a hand as Hermione opened her mouth. "I know you're doing some sort of project with Lupin and Snape and that's why you let her in. The problem is that they can't see past the fact that she's a bloody Slytherin! No offense meant."

"None taken," Aisling leaned back against the arm of the couch and looked at him through shuttered eyes.

"I don't know if you noticed, but Ron's last Herbology essay got a D. And as much as he'll hate me for saying this," he continued, looking at Hermione desperately. "You're the only reason he's passed anything other than Defense for years."

Hermione shrugged, raising her eyebrows. "I can help him with his homework. I can't bail him out of real life. He'll have to figure it out himself."

Harry sighed. "I'm not saying I need you to bail him out of anything, we just need you back."

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest again. "He should have thought of that before he called me a bitch. Enough people have called me that, and I'm done."

Silence fell in the cozy room but for the crackling of the fire. Aisling watched Harry and Hermione, taking in how he gazed at her hungrily and almost sadly, as though wishing to tell her something but not being able to find the words. Hermione stared out the window, the November night dark and imposing, promising snow.

"Is this the way it's going to be from now on?" Harry asked finally, looking at her. "You and Ron don't talk to each other, and you and I go three weeks without speaking? Is six years of friendship going to fizzle out over him calling you a bitch?"

Her eyes snapped back to his and her shoulders tensed. Harry leaned back a couple of inches and Aisling fingered the handle of her wand warily.

"No, Harry, six years of friendship is not fizzling out over being called a bitch." Hermione's voice was eerily calm, her tone belying the fury that radiated from her eyes. "Six years of friendship with that inconsiderate git is fizzling out over him using me as a walking encyclopedia and personal tutor for six years and noticing that I am actually a female when it suits his fancy. He ruined my relationship with Viktor Krum because he couldn't accept that I have my own life, and he's ruined any chance I have with anybody and this sodding school!"

She jumped to her feet and stood next to the window, staring out in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. She seized the bottle that stood open next to it and lifted it, swigging. Harry stared at her, jaw slack and eyes wide. Aisling noticed her wand laying on the table in front of the couch and surreptitiously snatched it, holding it on her lap.

"But, 'Mione -"

"And you just stood by and let him do it." Hermione interrupted. "You just watched."

"But..." Harry slumped in his seat on the couch, defeated.

_Perhaps it's time to leave,_ thought Aisling, standing and tiptoing around the back of the couch. It didn't seem like there would be hexes flying, and this was something she'd rather not witness if she could help it. She placed Hermione's wand carefully on her desk, angling it so that it would catch the light when she went looking for it and crossed to the door. She swung her bag onto her shoulder, scooped up her discarded robe, and slid her feet into her shoes.

She shut the door quietly behind her and turned to face the Gryffindors in their common room. Forty pairs of eyes drilled into her, suspicious, wary, and some openly hostile. She smirked at them and raised a hand in farewell, crossing to the portrait hole.

She chuckled slightly when she gained the peace of the corridor. As much as the Gryffindors claimed that the Slytherins were a racist and bigoted lot, they themselves weren't exactly tolerant. Hermione was the only Gryffindor that had bothered to get to know her, the rest of her House disliked her on principle.

She had taken a left around a corner to cross to a staircase when she heard footsteps behind her.

"Blake!" the voice shrieked, rivaling a mandrake in pitch. Aisling turned to see Ginny Weasley stomp toward her, thunderous face and red hair crackling.

"Yeah?" she answered lazily, one eyebrow raising. Ginny skidded to a halt in front of her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Well, the obvious answer is that I am walking along a corridor. But your suspicious Gryffindor mind has already decided that I am up to something, so why don't you tell me what I'm doing?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed. She took a step closer. "Somehow you've managed to curse Hermione."

"Ah."Aisling's other eyebrow rose. "I thought it would be something like this."

"So you did curse her," Ginny stated.

"So the fact that Hermione has friends other than you, your brother, and Potter means she's been cursed?" Aisling's lip curled in scorn. "You don't know what you're going to do with yourself when she graduates and is out on her own, do you?"

Ginny's already rosy complexion darkened. "She and Ron are going to get married when they graduate. Everyone's known it for years!"

"I see," scoffed Aisling. "And it doesn't occur to you that people change?"

Ginny scowled. She stood two inches taller than Aisling, yet shrunk under Aisling's stormy gaze.

"And I suppose you and Potter are going to ride off on a white horse into the sunset?"

"Yes. He loves me and I love him," Ginny said defiantly, lip curling. "We're getting married this summer. We're going to elope to Spain, have the ceremony, and go back. They won't be able to do anything about it because Wizarding Nuptials are a binding ceremony."

"You don't say."

"Did you curse her or not!" demanded Ginny, bordering on hysterics.

"You seem to be suffering delusions. Perhaps some psychological help would be good?" suggested Aisling with a smirk. "Anyway, I have first years to torture and an essay to finish. I will leave you with your suspicions."

She stepped back from Ginny fluidly, readjusting her bag on her shoulder.

"_Reducto!_" bellowed Ginny, pointing her wand at Aisling's back.

"Bad move, Weasley," warned Aisling, whipping around and flicking her wand. Ginny's curse bounced off the shield, sending it back toward its source. Ginny dived out of the way, wincing as the jet of light flew over her head.

Aisling dropped her bag on the floor with a dangerous look and pointed her wand at Ginny, raising her up and pressing her against the wall, paralyzed. Another wave and Ginny was struck dumb, her mouth moving with no sound. Aisling stepped closer to the redhead, smiling dangerously.

"I don't think I need to tell you how bad an idea that was," she said conversationally, nose six inches from Ginny's. "You don't know a thing about my qualifications. You don't know a thing about my magic. Wasn't one of the things Harry Potter taught you in your group, the D.A., was to learn what you can about your enemy before launching an attack?"

Ginny's eyes were furious. Her fingers twitched angrily, but her wand was still on the floor where she had fallen.

"All I'm saying, little girl, is _know thine enemy_. You don't know me, and I could inflict more damage than you could handle." Aisling cocked her head. "Next time you want to dance, learn the steps before you take to the dance floor."

Aisling turned on her heel again, reclaiming her bag and robe and striding down the stairs.

"Oh," she said aloud, two floors down, remembering to jab her wand over her shoulder. She heard a crash and a curse and smirked, wondering when Ginny would enact her pitiful revenge. "God, she thought a Reductor Curse would take me out?"

She felt mildly insulted. She hadn't been attacked with the Reductor Curse since she was thirteen. They learned quickly that it would take more than that to take her out.

—[ TDV ]---

"I said _move,_ now!" Constantin placed a heavy boot in the small of the werewolf's back and pushed, sending him sprawling in the snow. Greyback sent a livid look over his shoulder but wisely remained silent. The Death Eater hadn't hesitated to use the Cruciatus Curse, and even though his constitution was stronger than a human's, even he couldn't take it without a bit of pain.

They had been trawling through the snow for almost ten hours, stopping briefly to break into a Muggle cellar and help themselves to several excellent bottles of wine, a loaf of bread, and some potatoes, retreating into a nearby forest to cook them over a fire conjured in a glass jar.

"Oh, one of these days..." muttered Greyback under his breath, struggling to his feet and wrapping his ragged robe around his emaciated torso.

"Yes," said Constantin, unimpressed. "Yes, you'll inflict your vengeance upon the world, taking whatever you please with your army of mutts and ensuring your dominion shall outlive yourself."

Greyback's lip curled. "And I shall not even bother with biting you, I'll just tear you to bits..."

"I'm sure you will."

The werewolf fell silent, stumbling in hidden rabbit holes and tripping over roots. The moon cast a feeble light across the field of unbroken snow that stretched for miles ahead. If the past ten hours were anything to go by, van der Skep would march him until he collapsed, and then curse him in to getting back up.

_This Voldemort had better offer me a sweet deal..._ thought Greyback bitterly, his fingers twitching as though wishing to wrap themselves around Constantin van der Skep's neck.

—[ TDV ]---

"She hexed me!" screeched Ginny in the boys' dormitory, having dragged Ron into his room. "That bloody bitch hexed me!"

"Who? Hermione?" Ron's brow creased in confusion, sitting on his bed and staring at his little sister as she paced.

"No!" she spat. "Aisling Blake, Hermione's new bestest friend!"

"Why would she hex you?" Ron asked.

"Because I asked her if she cursed Hermione! There's no way Hermione would walk away from you and Harry if she wasn't cursed!" Ginny's legendary Weasley complexion grew to match her hair and Ron could feel a full-blown tantrum approach. Ron doubted that the encounter was as tame as she said, but he also knew that Ginny sometimes withheld details to avoid incriminating herself.

"Look, Gin," he said soothingly, patting the bed next to him in invitation. Ginny stared at for a second and then sat down, wrapping her arms around her knees. He rubbed his hand over her tense shoulders. "I don't know what's going on with Hermione. And until she apologizes, I don't really care."

"But -"

"Did she do anything to you personally?"

"No, but -"

"Then let it go. She hasn't hurt you, she hasn't hurt Harry, and we don't know that she's hurting Hermione."

"But -"

"Just let it go." Ron's voice was firm, carrying a little bit of warning. Ginny rested her chin on her knees and glared at the floor. "Good girl."

He stood up and walked around his trunk. "Gin. I'm not letting Hermione go, if that's what you're wondering. I've got a plan to see what they're doing, and I promise you that I will get her back."

—[ TDV ]---

Hermione unbuttoned her shirt all the way, letting it slide off her shoulders into a pile on the floor. Her skirt and socks soon joined it, and she kicked the entire pile to the other end of her bathroom. She stepped into the shower, jabbing her wand at the handles. Warm water shot out and she slid under the stream, feeling the water pound out the tension of the day.

Harry was still in her room. They had broken out another bottle of Firewhisky and he'd passed out, not as adept at holding his liquor as she was. They'd talked for hours, about the past, about the present, and about the future. She found out that he'd revised his decision to be an Auror in favor of finding out if he could take over for Madam Hooch when she retired, and she confided that she wasn't really interested in battling for elf rights anymore.

Harry had quaffed goblet after goblet, and she'd matched him until he'd fallen asleep on the end of the couch. She'd covered him in a woven afghan and traipsed into the shower, rinsing the stench of whisky and the usual grime of the school day from her skin and hair.

The scent of sandalwood shampoo filled the bathroom and flowed around her when she emerged from the door, clad in a camisole and pajama pants. He was still in the same place she'd left him, his face open and relaxed.

She placed a small vial on the coffee table in front of him with a glass of water and sank into one of the chairs with a book.

Hours passed. Harry shifted slightly in his sleep and Hermione turned the pages quietly, lost in her Muggle fantasy. She smirked at Tolkien's fanciful description of elves and dwarves, mentally comparing them to their realistic counterparts.

"So that's where those got to," Harry said quietly, looking at her pants. She started, not having noticed that he'd awakened, and stared down guiltily at her pajama pants. She'd swiped them from Harry during the summer they'd spent at Grimmauld place.

"They're comfy," she shrugged with a small smile.

He chuckled and sat up. He saw the vial and uncorked it, the distinctive aroma of a Sobering Potion filling the room. He downed it and took a healthy swig of water, wincing at the foul taste.

"Thanks for that," he said appreciatively. "I was wondering how I'd explain that to Madam Pomfrey..."

"I'd figured." She closed the book on her lap and looked at him.

"Do you want me to take off?" He looked down at his watch, eyebrows rising as he noticed the late hour.

"Nah," she said, shaking her head. "Might as well stay, gotta be up in a few hours anyway."

"Thanks," he replied, stretching. "Look, 'Mione, it's just not the same around here without you."

"I miss you too," she said quietly. "I just can't handle Ron right now. You know why."

"Yeah," he said bitterly. "I can't say I blame you, but still..."

"I know." She stood up abruptly, striding into her room and returning with another pair of pajama pants. She tossed them at him and smirked as he recognized them as another pair of his own.

"Have you stolen all of my pajamas?" He raised his eyebrows at her and stood himself, crossing to the bathroom.

"In answer to your question," she said when he reappeared, bare chested and wearing the pants. "Yours fit me better. Ron is so bloody tall and skinny that they're too tight and way too long."

"Fair enough," he said with a faint smile. Though Ron was almost eight inches taller than Harry, Harry outweighed him by at least thirty pounds. Hermione stretched in her chair, yawning.

"I should let you get to bed," he said, watching her closely.

"It's fine. I usually stay up late." She met his eyes and smiled. "You think I could sleep with all these books? It's hard to resist the temptation most of the time."

"You mean you haven't read them all yet?" He said in mock surprise, stretching along the couch.

"I'm working on it..." She crossed around to the back of the couch, pressing a kiss on Harry's temple. She had just turned toward her room when Harry's hand closed around her wrist and tugged her back to him, pulling her over the back of the couch. She squealed slightly and landed between the back of the couch and Harry.

"Hi," he grinned down at her. She glared at him and tried to get up, her arm sliding on the upholstery. "Looks like you're stuck here."

"So it would seem," she said with a trace of irritation. She struggled unsuccessfully to get up from between the cushions and his body, wiggling, poking, and jabbing his ribs. He wouldn't move, nor would he let her up. She narrowed her eyes and tried to push him off the couch, but his larger frame refused to move.

She finally sighed in defeat and fell still, glaring daggers at the bit of his chin she could see. Harry smirked and pulled the afghan over them both, propping his arm under her neck. He fell asleep soon after, his breath warm on her forehead.

_What does this mean for Ginny? _she wondered, acutely aware of how the muscles of his arm moved under her cheek as he breathed.

She fell asleep, thoughts about the small redhead who had pined for Harry for years floating on her subconscious, coloring her dreams. She moved restlessly, chafing her skin on the coarse upholstery. She found herself curling in to Harry and had to jerk herself away, feeling that this was tantamount to kissing him in front of Ginny. Her arm sank into the recesses behind the cushions and she withdrew a crumpled piece of parchment, squinting to see a love note written twenty years previously to either a Head Boy or Girl.

The dawn light slowly filtered in, casting dim shadows over Harry's chest and arms. Hermione dozed, jolting awake every few minutes. The beginning of the day couldn't come quickly enough.

Hermione climbed over the back of the couch when she heard the grandfather clock chime six o'clock. She felt that it was a valid time to awaken, and she ached to get away to her room. She wanted a shower and some privacy, and time to think about what happened.

But maybe a nap...

Hermione woke up an hour later, dressed in a hurry, and ran to the couch to find Harry, fully dressed, and writing an essay. They smiled awkwardly to each other and rose, Harry following Hermione to the door that led back into the common room.

Fifty pairs of eyes - including Ron and Ginny Weasley - saw them emerge from the Head Girl's quarters.

—[ TDV ]---

"But Lucius, darling, what if he fails?" Narcissa perched on the arm of her husband's chair, biting her nails. Lucius seized her hand and pulled her onto his lap.

"He won't." He rubbed her back. "I have taken measures to ensure his success."

"What have you done?" she said nervously.

"I have made a few - ah... suggestions to the right people, and they will be able to help him."

"Like who?"

"I suggested to the Dark Lord that Fenrir Greyback would be able to impress upon Aisling Blake the importance of what Draco is doing, and perhaps that would be enough to ensure her cooperation. And if not," he added delicately, brushing her cheek with his fingers. "He will take her out. We do not need a wildcard Yank on the loose with intimate knowledge of our plans."

"Greyback?" she breathed, her brows knitting. "You got Greyback?"

"Yes." His distaste for the werewolf was obvious.

"Why Greyback?"

"Do you want to deal with him?"

"Of course not!" she said indignantly, twisting around to look Lucius in the face.

"Than I sincerely doubt Aisling Blake does either."

—[ TDV ]---

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Harry's voice floated out of the darkness right next to Ron's ear. He jumped and withdrew his hand from the cabinet, looking around guiltily.

"What do you mean? How did you know where I was?" Ron grimaced when Harry waved the Marauders' Map in front of him. "Stupid question."

"Yeah, it was." Harry frowned. "And you still haven't answered mine."

"Uh..."

"Wow. Nice. I ask you why you're skulking around Snape's potion ingredients cupboard and all you can say is 'uh.'" Harry rolled his eyes. "What are you looking for?"

Ron looked shifty. He glanced at the cupboard again and back to Harry, who had folded his arms across his chest.

"Boomslang skin, powdered unicorn horn, and basilisk venom."

Harry stared at him.

"Look, mate, I'm not telling you why. Either you help me or you don't, but I'm not telling you." Ron raised his eyebrows and shrugged, turning back to the cabinet.

"I didn't think we kept secrets from each other," said Harry coolly, taking a step back. "I thought best mates told each other what they were up to."

"Sorry." Ron shrugged again, pointing his wand at the cabinet and saying, "Alohomora."

"Like that's going to work," scoffed Harry scornfully. "You think Snape is going to protect his precious ingredients with a simple Locking Charm?"

"Sod off, Harry, you're starting to sound like Hermione!" Ron scowled at Harry. "'Hey, let's point out what stupid, idiotic Ron is doing wrong, just because we can!'"

"I see." Harry said, his lip curling. "So you two have a fight and suddenly I'm the enemy if I talk to either one of you? That's completely mental!"

"So now you're saying I'm mental," Ron stated.

Harry looked at Ron for a moment, taking in the freckles that were almost invisible on Ron's angry complexion, at the wand held awkwardly in his long fingers, and at the fury bubbling in his eyes.

"Yeah," he said finally. "I suppose I am. But if you ever decide to come to your senses, you know how to find me."

He turned on his heel and stalked back up the stairs, moving along the corridor and stopping at Snape's office door and knocking on the heavy wood. The professor answered the door with a scowl on his face, but Harry smiled.

"You might want to check your potions ingredients, Professor." Harry jerked his head at the door to the classroom. "I think someone's trying to steal something."

He turned and strode toward the rest of the school, leaving Severus Snape looking after him in stunned amazement.

—[ TDV ]---

"Potter." Aisling was slightly surprised to see the Chosen One down in the dungeons at midnight. The boy in question turned at the sound of her voice and broke into a small smile.

"Aisling." Harry crossed to her. "What are you doing down here?"

"Um," she said, pointing at the bit of wall from which she'd emerged. "Common room. I'm an evil Slytherin after all. But I've got an idea that you know where the common room was," she added shrewdly, eyeing him. "I think the better question is what you're doing down here, as I know for a fact that your common room is seven floors up."

"Fair enough," he conceded. "I was looking into something, I found out what I needed to know, and I'm on my way back to my den before you trap me in your nasty pit of serpents."

"Let me guess. Ron Weasley?"

"How did you -"

"Come now, Potter, I'm not blind." She smirked. "He's been arriving ten minutes early and staying a few minutes late for Potions lately, and if his gaze could burn a hole through enchanted wood, that cabinet would be ash."

"You're good, I'll give you that."

"I know," she said sweetly. "That's why I took the precaution of putting my own enchantment on it. It's now officially a Weasley free zone."

"Whoa," he said. "How did you manage that one?"

"It's something the teachers back at Salem would do when a student was in trouble and wasn't allowed off campus, they'd put it on the fence surrounding the school. It's similar to a Muggle Repelling Charm, but coded to someone's magical signature." She shrugged. "I thought it was a good idea."

"Yeah," Harry said, looking at her appreciatively. "I reckon Hermione was right about you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." He leaned against the wall next to her. "You're not all dark and evil like everyone says. You're just different."

"Wow, thanks ever so much," she said sarcastically. "You'd better get up to your lion den before this evil little snake decides to hex you to save the face of her House. Good night."

"Night."

—[ TDV ]---

Well, there you go. Hope you enjoyed, and hope you're looking forward to what's next!

Thanks for reading!


	12. Concern

Severus's eyes narrowed as he gazed over the Great Hall. He knew that lowering his brow greatly heightened his resemblance to a bat, but he'd been doing it for so long that the muscles in his face had all but forgotten how to relax.

He'd terrified many students with his piercing gaze in his almost twenty years teaching, and some of the students he'd taught in his first few years were sending their own children to Hogwarts, so he had become something of an institution.

He glanced sideways down the table and smirked at Minerva. He was pushing twenty years, but it seemed that she was pushing fifty. She'd outlive the cockroaches if the Muggles sent off some sort of dirty bomb, he was sure of it.

Many years ago, he and Lily had jested about this very subject, how Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn were as much a part of the school as the walls. He'd had to stifle his pain when Slughorn retired, thinking of how Lily would have reacted, how her emerald eyes would have widened, sparkling, and a mischievous little smile would have played across her lips.

He felt movement under his robes and looked down. _After all this time?_ He thought, smiling wistfully at the voracious sex he and Lily had never had, the green-eyed children with dark hair they'd never sent off to school, and of the gardens they hadn't been able to plant, and the laws they wouldn't be able to discuss over their morning tea, the watch they wouldn't be able to present to their eldest as they came of age...

Severus shook himself and stared down at his plate in shock. He hadn't thought of what he'd miss since the night after the murders, and then he'd buried them deep underneath purpose and enforced apathy. Every year, however, on the anniversary of her death, he spent the night on the Astronomy Tower. It brought back memories both bittersweet and painful.

They'd met there the first Friday on their first term, the first chance they'd had to speak to each other since before the Sorting. They'd met up there during their third year, when James Potter had hexed her hair green - "to match her eyes," he'd insisted to Dumbledore and McGonagall frantically, after she'd turned him down the first time - and then again the next year when she heard he'd been involved in an incident that resulted in two of his friends in the hospital wing and three Gryffindors with a months' detention.

The year after that was when he'd called her a mudblood, and they'd only had one more Astronomy Tower meeting. The day after they'd sat their N.E.W.T.s he received a mysterious summons to the top of the tower at four in the morning. That was the hour in which he knew that his heart would be petrified for all eternity.

That was the day she told him she was marrying James Potter.

Severus shook himself again. Next thing you know he'd be declaiming gnomish love poetry to Peeves.

His eyes scanned the Gryffindor table for a head of messy black hair. It was nestled between a mane of long, brown locks and a short bob in glossiest black. His eyes narrowed yet again. He'd realized that Aisling Blake had befriended Hermione Granger, but he had no idea that she'd managed to penetrate Potter's defenses as well.

How... unexpected. And completely unwelcome.

He glanced sharply down to the Slytherin table, searching for Draco. He sat at the end, staring listlessly into his plate, pushing the food around with his fork. His classmates gave him a wide berth, perhaps sensing that the Malfoy heir's star was setting. Or perhaps he'd chased them away. Even Pansy Parkinson, usually impervious to his moods and unsubtle rejection, sat quite a distance away.

Severus stared at him for a moment, probing the boy's mind with his own. He met a steel wall, dark and impenetrable, and stronger than he expected. _Must be Bellatrix's work_, he thought with a frown. No wonder the boy looked wan, if Auntie Bella had poked around in his mind.

He suddenly stood. His colleagues, quite used to his abrupt and dramatic departures, took no notice. He swept around the end of the table and down the aisle formed by the Slytherin table and the wall, tapping Draco's shoulder as he passed. He jerked his head imperceptibly toward the Great Hall when Draco looked up.

"What?" asked Draco dully as they shut the door to the dungeons behind them. "I've still got an essay to write for a class."

"Perhaps you should have done it last night," Severus suggested wryly. "I wish to speak to you."

"What about?" A trace of his insolent drawl still lingered in his tone. Severus looked at him sharply.

"How is your mission going?" Severus sat behind his desk and nodded toward the chair. Draco sank onto it, cradling his head in his hands.

"I don't know how I'm going to be able to do it..." he muttered, muffled. "How can I kill the bloody Headmaster? I can't even sleep as it is, I don't know how I'm going to be able to do it and still call myself human..."

"So you understand," said Severus, not unkindly. "It does horrible damage to your soul, to kill. Even worse when you're a hired dog in a war in which you do not believe. I don't think you believe in this," he added, seeing Draco look up warily.

Silence fell. Severus watched his godson carefully, noting the bags under his eyes and the pale skin. Well, Draco had always been pale, but he looked like a vampire. He cracked a small smile, remembering how Sirius Black had accused him of being that very thing during one of their second-year Defense classes. His smile became concerned as he noticed the faint sheen of tears in Draco's pale eyes.

"Draco?" he asked gently. "Its not easy to kill. It rips apart the soul to snuff another's life, and it will never be easy."

"But you've done it," pointed out Draco defiantly. "How many people have you killed?"

"Enough to know what it does to one," replied Severus mildly. "And enough to wish to save you from it."

"Why would you want to save me?" spat Draco, once more looking at his lap. "I'm nothing but the spawn of one of the Dark Lord's inner men."

"And you are also my godson," reminded Severus. "And your life is worth enough for me to wish to help you."

"You can't save me," said Draco, an unexpected laugh illuminating his dull eyes. "If I don't kill him, _he'll_ kill me. Kill or be killed. That's the way it is."

Severus surveyed the boy in front of him. His shoulders shook with laughter - tears? - and his hair obscured his face. His hands trembled as they ran compulsively through his hair. Severus felt an unexpected wave of compassion, and a flash of bitter recognition.

Sixteen years previously, this very scene had played out four floors above in the Headmaster's office.

—[ TDV ]---

"So Harry was right."

Ron jumped violently and whipped around, searching for the source of the voice. Hermione stepped out from the folds of the Invisibility Cloak and crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows at him.

"So you're really trying to break into Snape's stores," she said, shaking her head. "Surely even you wouldn't be that foolish."

"Oh, yes," drawled Ron, turning around and lounging against the wall. "Surely even me... what foolish thing will I do next?"

"Oh, can the self-pity," sneered Hermione. "You're too old to pout."

"Look, what do you want, Granger?"

"Oh, surnames now. How... upsetting." Her eyes narrowed. "But once again, _Weasley_, you'd think you'd have learned from last time."

"How did you hear about that?" Ron said angrily.

"I have my sources," she said smugly. "I have many of them, and I happen to know that you spent a week after classes scrubbing cauldrons and organizing the store cupboard."

Ron flushed. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her knees.

"And I also happen to know who told Snape you were down here," she continued, smirking as his ears steadily turned crimson. "And I also happen to know that Snape will be down here in exactly," - she looked at her watch - "Seven minutes to begin grading the third year essays of sneeze-grass."

Ron's eyes snapped up to hers and widened.

"Now, if you're done being a prepubescent child, you can come back up the common room with me under the cloak."

"Not bloody likely," he snarled at her. Her brows disappeared underneath her bangs.

"Ah. I see. I will leave you to your futile attempts at illicit ingredients. Best of luck to you," she gave him a sarcastic little wave and melted away underneath the Invisibility Cloak.

Ron turned back to the cabinet, glancing repeatedly to an open book propped on a nearby desk. He ran his fingers over the dark wood, growling quietly when his fingers couldn't grasp the handle or come in contact with the seam along the side.

And sure enough, six and a half minutes later, Snape entered the classroom in a whirl of robes.

"Weasley. So it seems that you never learn." He approached Ron's bright head and laughed unpleasantly. "This time we go to the Headmaster."

—[ TDV ]---

"'Mione? Can we talk?"

Hermione was sitting in the library, feet up on a chair, chatting quietly with Aisling. She looked up at the sound of his voice and something tightened in her eyes.

"Right now? Can it wait?" She eyed him warily, ignoring Aisling's lewd looks. He frowned and shook his head, gazing at her imploringly. "Fine... See you later, Aisling."

She waved with a smirk and Hermione stood up, gathering her books and shoving them into her bag. She followed Harry out of the door and he led the way up through the school to the abandoned Astronomy Tower.

"Ah..."

He turned his head to look behind him. "Yes?"

"Umm, what are we doing here?"

"We need to talk."

"What about?" she said, warier still. She pulled her robes tighter around herself. "What are we doing out here, at night, in December? Did it not occur to you that we get cold? Or did hours of Quidditch training make you impervious to weather?"

He grinned at her light teasing. He slid out of his robe and draped it across her shoulders, snickering as it pooled at her feet.

"Boys and their bloody mutant growth hormones," she muttered under her breath. She crossed to an overhanging ledge and swept the snow from the ground with a wave of her wand. Another flick conjured a pair of comfortable chairs with thick blankets. She sank into one of them, curling up and wrapping herself in the blanket. He sat in the other one.

"So..."

"So," he repeated.

"Well, I'll assume you have something to say," she ventured. "Otherwise I'd be continuing my passionate affair with the library in the warmth."

Silence fell. Harry stared out over the turrets of the castle, biting his lip.

"Look," he said finally. "What's going on between us?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I thought you and Ginny..."

"So did I." He caught her eye. "But after she attacked Aisling, I don't know if she's good for me."

"She attacked Aisling?" Hermione was flabbergasted. "What in Merlin's name possessed her to do that?"

"I haven't the foggiest," he admitted. "But I can't handle being with someone who goes out of their way to pick fights. Anyway," he added, shaking his head. "I'd have thought she'd be a little wiser than to pick a fight with Aisling, of all people."

"True enough." Hermione nodded. "I don't want to know what Aisling's capable of if she gets hacked off enough."

"You really like her, don't you?" Harry looked at her curiously.

"Its nice to have a girl friend," she responded, shrugging slightly. "I've been hanging out with you and Ron for so long, it's nice to have a conversation that doesn't revolve around Quidditch, the Dark Lord, or Lavender Brown. Or," she added, smirking at Harry, "Cho Chang."

Harry had the grace to blush slightly.

"She gets what I'm talking about. I don't have to explain things to her." She looked sad.

"We really weren't the best friends to you, were we..." Harry looked out over the grounds again.

"That's not it." She looked at him sharply. "Its just... I've grown up, and it seems sometimes that you and Ron don't notice it."

Harry snorted and flushed violently. "Oh, trust me, I've noticed."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, Merlin," he whispered, head in his hands. "I can't believe I just said that."

"Are you okay, Harry? You're acting... odd." She leaned toward him and placed a hand on his forehead, concerned. He jerked from under her hand and she sat back, slightly alarmed.

"I'm fine," he muttered. "Well, no, I'm not, but it's okay, because I'll live, and even if I don't it's still alright... I think."

"Harry?" She narrowed her eyes and fingered the handle of her wand. "I'm starting to get a little worried. What do you need to talk to me about?"

He stared at her for a moment, his babbling dying.

"I don't know what's going on between us. All I know," he said, shaking his head. "Is that you're my best mate's girl and I'm drawn to you."

"I'm nobody's girl," she said furiously. "Least of all Ron's."

"Just the news I wanted to hear," he said, brightening. "Does that mean I have a shot?"

"A shot at what?" she asked cautiously.

"At you. With you. You and me." He stood up and crossed to the low wall. "Us."

"I didn't realize how much you babble," she said nervously, avoiding thinking about what he was suggesting.

"Yeah," he said with a small chuckle. "Me either."

Silence fell between them. Hermione got up and stood next to him, looking toward the east where the sun would rise in a few hours.

"Harry," she started, watching him out of the corner of her eye. "I don't know what's going on. For years, everyone has thought I'd end up with Ron. And you with Ginny. And suddenly both of us have escaped their clutches? This is the first time since I was eleven years old that I've had friend other than you and Ron, and I'm enjoying it."

He nodded. He knew what she meant.

"I don't have to fix his mistakes. I don't have to write his essays. I don't have to simplify things to him." She shrugged and smiled sadly. "Any future that I thought I had with him has long since imploded, and all I'm left with is _me._ And I like it."

He nodded again. He noticed that her vocabulary had changed slightly since she had begun spending time with Aisling. Or perhaps he was just noticing it.

"And while I don't have to coddle you like I had to with Ron," she continued, her fingers tracing a vein in the stone. "I feel like you're just trying to get me back with him. I know you're not," she added, holding a hand up to stop him from speaking. "But I can't help thinking that this is some plot of Ginny's to make everything as she thinks it should be."

"You really think I would let her use me like that?" Harry was slightly wounded. "I can keep Voldemort out of my mind, but you think Ginny has control over me?"

She looked at him sideways. "Does she?"

"No!" he said indignantly. "I walked away from her. Three days before I spent the night in _your_ rooms!"

She was taken aback. She hadn't known.

"I'm sorry," she said honestly. "But after hearing that she attacked Aisling, you can't really blame me for wondering if she's controlling you."

"I guess," he said grudgingly.

"Oh," she said, suddenly remembering something she'd been meaning to ask him since finding Ron in the potions classroom. "Any idea what Ron's doing in Snape's dungeon?"

"Nope. He won't tell me, but last time I caught him he swiped boomslang skin, powdered unicorn horn, and basilisk venom." Harry glanced at her in time to see Hermione's mouth open. "What?"

"Basilisk venom?" She bit her lip. "I can only think of three uses for them. And two are Dark Magic, and the other is one that I don't think even Ron would be stupid enough to try."

"Dark Magic? You think he's dabbling in Dark Magic?"

"I don't know. It was used in the Middle Ages, the wizards would coat the tips of their arrows in basilisk venom and enchant them to find the weak points in Muggle armor. It took ten seconds to kill. And its also a component in the Drought of Living Death."

"I don't think so, 'Mione." Harry shook his head. "I agree he's been a right foul git lately, but I don't think that quite stretches to Dark Magic. I think his mum would flay him alive if she found out he's brewing the Drought of Living Death. Didn't you say there was one other use for it?"

"It can be used in the potion to begin the Animagus transformation."

"The Animagus transformation," Harry repeated faintly. "The same on my dad and Sirius did?"

"The same one. I can't believe that's what he's doing. Where would he brew it? Is he doing it in your dormitory?" Hermione paced back and forth, her brow furrowed. "If he does it wrong it'll explode, and if he's there when it goes, it'll kill him."

"It's that dangerous?" Harry watched her.

"It's dangerous enough that I haven't done it yet," pointed out Hermione. "I was really surprised to hear that your dad and Sirius did it in their fifth year. I always knew they were intelligent, but still..."

"I'll talk to Ron in the morning," Harry told her, watching gooseflesh erupt on her neck. "We should get inside."

"Let me talk to Aisling first. Maybe she has an idea," she said, stopping in front of him. She looked up into his face, seeing the roil of emotions behind his green eyes. She swallowed.

"And about the other thing," she said softly. "I'll think about it. I can't promise more than that."

"Fair enough," he said with a faint smile. "I can't really ask for more, can I?"

—[ TDV ]---

Aisling had little to say. Animagi were more common at Salem than they were at Hogwarts, but she'd distanced herself so much from everyone else that she hadn't come in contact with anyone who had successfully made the transformation. She'd told Hermione how to lay down the Repelling Charm and explained how it worked, and they'd spent an evening closeted in Hermione's room with Harry.

And they'd come up with few conclusions.

And the more he watched Aisling and Hermione interact, the more he realized how poor a friend he'd been to her in the last few years. He found out more about her in the two hours they all spent in her rooms than he'd found out about her in the last two years.

She'd always put on a strong face for him when things got tough, and she always dropped everything to help him.

_She's walked away from many of her own interests,_ he thought sadly. He frowned when he realized that Ron probably knew less about her than he did. He could guarantee it, actually.

She'd cultivated a healthy interest in werewolf legislation. He knew she'd been interested in changing the rules when Professor Lupin stepped down the first time, but he would bet his Firebolt that her knowledge of the legislation rivaled even Lupin's.

She still couldn't cook with magic. Her secret to keeping her rooms so immaculate came from a charm Dumbledore himself taught her. She deliberately kept her personal library in disarray because she thought she'd go mental if she had them in alphabetical order.

Harry snorted when she told him that, feeling that she'd crossed into mental territory years ago. Hermione had glared at him and he'd grinned back, holding his hands up in surrender.

He sat back and watched them chat about one of their more recent Arithmancy lessons, catching and understanding one word in the through all of the jargon. They were both animated, pointing at paragraphs and footnotes in textbooks, arguing good-naturedly when they disagreed.

"So... seen Malfoy recently?" Harry asked conversationally, when they'd packed away their Arithmancy books.

"Yes, I saw him just the other day. He looked horrible." Hermione looked at Harry. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," he asked, shrugging. "Last time I saw him I thought he'd been given the Kiss. Wonder what's up with him."

Hermione turned to Aisling. "Any ideas?"

"Plenty." She looked at them levelly. "None that I can share, though."

"Why?" asked Harry curiously, not sanguine about her commission.

"Because if I told you I'd have to kill you," she said with a glint of truth underneath the grin.

"Super-secret Slytherin-y stuff?" he asked with a waggle of his tongue. Hermione snorted in laughter. Aisling shook her head.

"Super-secret Death Eater stuff."

"Oh."

"Hey," said Hermione, changing the subject. "Anyone up for a trip to the kitchens? We can get some eggnog."

"Yeah," Harry said, getting up and sliding his feet into his shoes. "Why not?"

—[ TDV ]---

"We've gotta go. Now!" Sean seized Aiden's shoes and threw them to him, catching him in the stomach. Aiden grunted and stumbled out of bed, tripping on his blanket. "Now!"

"Wha's goin' on?" Aiden rubbed the sleep from his eyes and watched as Sean whirled around their room. He'd dressed in his heavy winter coat and boots, and was wrapping a scarf around his hatted head. "Sean?"

"Greyback. He's after Aisling!"

Aiden didn't wait to hear the rest of the sentence. He was up and moving and forty-five seconds later he was dressed, following Sean at a run. He seized Sean's arm just outside the fence and they both Apperated, popping into existence in the snow hundreds of miles to the north.

They peered carefully at the ground, spying dog-like tracks leading into a nearby forest. They could faintly hear his panting, growling breath, and their hearts stopped.

"Where are we?"

"Two miles from Hogwarts." Sean looked at his younger brother stonily. "Constantin van der Skep was sent to collect Greyback and escort him to the castle to see how Aisling is doing with her task. And from what I've heard, she's all but abandoned it."

"Oh, god," Aiden moaned, looking in the direction he thought the castle lay.

"Yep. And what's worse, she's become friends with Harry Potter's best friend Hermione Granger."

"She's dead..."

"Not if we get there first..." He jerked his head. "We have to go on foot from here. Professor Dumbledore's laid anti-Apparition wards down."

They ran, both grateful for their P.E. classes back at school. They'd both kept fit even after graduating, and it came in handy now. The gates to the school came into view a quarter of an hour later, the werewolf scrabbling at the metal.

"Will get you," Greyback panted. "Little Blake girl, succulent flesh, red blood, red red blood..."

"Greyback!" they both shouted, drawing their wands.

—[ TDV ]---

Sorry this isn't as long as the last chapter, I'm kinda strapped for time at the moment.

Anyway, thanks to those who've taken the time to review, they totally make my day!


	13. Endings

Well met.

I am so sorry about how long it's taken to get this up, the motherboard in my laptop decided to die a long, drawn-out, and dramatic death. I lost almost everything on my hard drive, so I had to totally rewrite this chapter.

Anyway, thanks to those who have kept up with me, and my apologies once again.

---[ TDV ]---

Harry knocked on Hermione's door, praying with every fiber of his being that she wasn't there.

He bit his lip as his knocks echoed through the empty common room, deserted at eleven in the evening. He ran his hand over his hair in a futile attempt to tame it, but gave up. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck and the hand that wasn't clenched around his wand was shaking.

_Good,_ he thought in relief. _She isn't there._

No sooner had he turned to return to his dormitory than the door opened. It wasn't Hermione, but Aisling.

"Potter." Aisling raised her eyebrows and leaned against the door frame. "'Sup?"

"Is, er, Hermione around, by any chance?" Harry looked anywhere but at Aisling, face burning.

"So you turn up at a girl's door at eleven o'clock and you're blushing," she said, a faint smile playing around her lips. "Makes me think you're up to something."

"Is she here?" he asked pleadingly.

"Maybe," she said.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that maybe she's here. Why do you want her?"

"I just need to talk to her," he said desperately, wishing that this damn Slytherin would just give him a straight answer.

"About what?"

"Just... stuff."

"Stuff," she repeated. "Well, you're gonna have to do better than that."

He stared at her incredulously.

"I have things I need to tell her, and questions to ask..."

"What makes you think doesn't already know what you _need_ to tell her, and that she has the answers to the questions you want to ask?" Her face was still impassive and her voice was carefully light.

"Because she's Hermione!" he replied heatedly.

"Yes," nodded Aisling. "I'm really glad you know who she is. But that still doesn't answer my question."

"I just... damn it all..." Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose, his glasses slipping down. "Look, when she gets back -"

"Aisling? What's up?" Hermione pulled the door all the way open and looked up at Harry in faint surprise. "Oh, hi Harry."

Harry glared daggers at Aisling who was chuckling to herself.

"Nothing, Hermione, Harry and I were just having a little conversation."

"Aisling! You were messing with him, weren't you!" Hermione frowned at Aisling and put a small hand on Harry's forearm. He swallowed.

"Guilty as charged," she said brightly, holding her hands up. Her eyes narrowed as she saw Harry gulp and her face broke out into a wide grin. "Harry here has things he _needs_ to tell you."

Hermione looked inquiringly at Harry, who felt his face grow darker.

"Think I'm gonna jet," continued Aisling, outright giggling now. "Let you _talk_..."

She darted back into the room and returned almost instantly, holding her back and sliding her feet into her shoes. She slipped past Harry and skipped to the portrait hole, shooting a smirk over her shoulder.

"Oh, Merlin, sorry about that," said Hermione sympathetically. "I hope she wasn't too mean."

"I've had worse," he said shortly. "Although... if you've got a moment, I need to talk to you."

"Yeah, come on in," she said, stepping aside. The room was as it usually was, covered in books and papers with both Hermione's and Aisling's neat scripts. A fire blazed and a bottle of Firewhisky sat on the coffee table with two glasses. Harry wondered if she used the passage to Honeydukes and through to the Three Broomsticks to get it. Hermione led him to the couch and pushed him down and began gathering the books and papers, tucking them away neatly on a desk in the corner. She sat down opposite him and looked at him expectantly.

"Look," he began, wondering how to start. "We've been friends for a while, yeah?"

"Yeah," she said slowly, dreading a conversation like the one they'd had on the top of the Astronomy Tower.

"I'm not okay with that anymore." Harry said flatly, biting the bullet.

"You don't want to be friends anymore?" she asked him, hurt and confusion flashing across her face. Harry's heart broke.

"No..."

"Why?" It was one word, tight and painful.

"Because," he said, getting up from the couch and crossing to her window. "Things have changed."

"Ginny and Ron," she clarified.

"They're part of it. Not all, though. You're a big part of it."

"Me?" Hermione was suddenly behind him, the light floral scent of her shampoo washing over him. He turned slightly and caught a moonlit glimpse of her profile. Her eyes glittered with a film of tears. "What did I do?"

Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "You've been messing with my head since you and Ron fought."

"So you're ditching me for Ron?" She looked down and crossed her arms over her chest. "I should have guessed."

"No." Harry turned all the way around to face her, lifting her chin with his finger. "Ginny wants me for my name, and she thinks every other girl in the ruddy school is competition. Ron can't pull his head out of his arse long enough to apologize to you, and I haven't really talked to him in ages. He's always down in the dungeons."

"So you're mad at them but you don't want to be friends with me anymore?" Hermione's brow knitted in bewilderment. "I don't get what you're saying."

"I'm saying I don't want to be friends anymore because friends can't do this," he said softly and moved closer to her. He cupped her cheek with one hand, his rough fingers warm against her creamy skin. His lips covered hers and he felt her place her hands on his chest. His other hand landed on her lower back, pulling her into him. She whimpered and her hands carded through the fine hairs on the back of his neck. His tongue traced her lips, pleading for entrance, and she opened her mouth, her tongue darting out to begin a slow, erotic dance.

Finally they had to break for air. They stared muzzily at each other, her arms still around his neck. He was once again struck at how small she was, eight inches shorter. She barely came up to his shoulder.

He felt a sort of primal anger possess him, fury that Ron had touched her, that Krum had touched her, that all the boys in the school could see her.

He wanted to claim her. His head bent down to her again, lips tracing the shell of her ear, licking and nipping at the tender spot behind it, his hands burying themselves in her heavy hair, tilting her head at an angle. His lips traveled down her jaw, nipping and sucking lightly until he came to her lips. He tugged on her bottom lip, his teeth testing her flesh.

She moaned and tightened her arms around his neck until she stood on her toes. One hand closed around her waist and he backed her up until her back was firmly against the wall. He kissed her furiously, pouring all the anger at Ron and Ginny and the embarrassment Aisling inflicted upon him and the rage he felt over Krum into her, punishing her for being so... Hermione-ish.

---[ TDV ]---

Harry was kissing her. Her brain froze, her train of thought derailing. All she was aware of was Harry, his mouth on her neck, his arm around her waist and his fingers in her hair.

One minute he was telling her he wasn't interested in being her friend, now he was kissing her as if his life depended on it.

She was confused beyond all belief, and she didn't know how to react. Thoughts whirled around her head, guilt constricting around her heart, and her eyes full of Harry.

His fingers were playing with the hem of her shirt, nails skimming her skin and making her shiver. His lips were sucking on the spot where her neck met her shoulders, and her hands were buried in his hair.

"No," she gasped finally. "What about Ginny and Ron?"

"What about them?" he growled, nipping her neck.

"Have you told them what you told me?" she asked him breathlessly. "You're gonna lose both of them if you do this..."

"I know." Harry raised his head to look her in the eye. "I'm done trying to play peace-maker."

"But..." Hermione bit her swollen lip. "You and Ron were friends long before you and I were."

"Keep in mind that we wouldn't be friends if Ron hadn't been a complete arse to you and called you a nightmare on Halloween," he reminded her pointedly. "Remember when he blamed you for Crookshanks supposedly eating Scabbers?"

"Yes," she muttered bitterly, playing with the fine hairs on his neck. "And when he threw a tantrum when I went to the Yule Ball with Viktor."

"He's an arse," he said softly, pressing his lips to her forehead. "And I don't need to deal with that."

"What about Ginny, though?" she asked, staring at her feet. "She's not exactly great with news like this. You didn't see her when Michael left her for Cho. She was scary."

"Ah, the notorious Weasley temper," he sighed. "If I can escape Voldemort five times, I can handle Miss Ginny."

She put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked concernedly. "Did I do something wr -"

"No," she interrupted him, shaking her head. "Headache. Been working on this bloody project for much too long tonight."

"Hmm." He scrutinized her carefully. "I think it's more than that."

She didn't say anything, but looked back up at him.

"You don't know if you want this," he stated, stepping back and releasing her.

"It's not that I don't want it..."

"Then what is it?" he asked, peering into her face.

"I don't know what's going on right now," she confessed, wrapping her arms around herself. "In a matter of a month, I've made a friend with a Death Eater, lost Ron and Ginny, and started a project that cannot be done."

She looked up at him, tears filling her cinnamon eyes.

"And I've kissed you," she whispered.

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked her. "Am I that bad a kisser?"

"That's not what I mean, and you know it!" she said heatedly.

"I know," he said, immediately sober. "I know what you mean. I know everyone expected you to end up with Ron, and me with Ginny."

"That's exactly what I mean."

"But," he said conspiratorially. "Have you ever noticed how nobody asked either of us what we wanted?"

She stared at him, eyes wide. "I suppose not."

"So, I say, screw everyone else and do what you want to do," he said simply, pulling her into his arms again. She rested her head against his chest and hugged him.

"I'm gonna go," he murmured, pressing a kiss into her hair. "I think you need some time to think. Come find me when you've made a couple decisions, yeah?"

"Okay," she said, releasing him.

He crossed to the door and she followed, opening it for him.

"Tomorrow, then," he said, touching her cheek with his fingers.

"Tomorrow."

---[ TDV ]---

"Severus," said the head of Albus Dumbledore in the fireplace. "I believe we have a problem that I could use you assistance with."

Severus raised an eyebrow at the headmaster, but set aside his stack of essays. The fifth years' essays on the Polyjuice potion was beginning to make his head throb anyhow. He stood up and knelt before the fire.

"May I ask what happened?"

"We have a werewolf problem, I'm afraid," said the old man over his spectacles.

"Lupin?"

"Much worse. Fenrir Greyback is at the gates of the castle."

Severus's eyes narrowed. "Greyback?"

"Indeed."

"What does he want?" Severus stood up and crossed to a shelf in his office, slipping a bottle containing wolfsbane into the pocket of his robe.

"I was hoping you could tell me," said Dumbledore. "I understand he's under the command of Constantin van der Skep."

"I didn't even know that Constantin was in the country," murmured Severus with a frown. "I thought he was being held in an Albanian prison for war crimes."

"As did I," said Dumbledore. "However, that is something we can figure out later, as right now we have a rabid werewolf at our front door."

"True," said Severus. "I'll run by Lupin's office."

"No such luck, I'm afraid." Dumbledore shook his head. "He's doing some reconnaissance work for the Order in Wales."

Severus sighed. "I shall meet you down there then."

"Ah," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled madly. "Excellent. I will not be joining you. I suspect you will have some assistance once you get down there, however."

"I see," sneered Severus. "I shall inform you once we've contained the brute."

Severus turned on his heel and swept from his office. He grumbled to himself as he hurried down corridors, thoroughly startling a Hufflepuff prefect. After barking at the poor girl to return to her common room, he pushed the heavy oak doors open and made his way through the cool night to the gates. The winged boars stood witness to three figures, two of whom were armed with wands and the third was on all fours.

"Greyback," he snarled to himself, recognizing the man. He was half transformed, shaggy hair partially obscured his face, and strings of saliva dripped from his fangs.

"_Reducto!"_ bellowed one of the men, brandishing his wand at the werewolf. The jet of light hit Greyback, who grunted but didn't move. The front of Greyback's jacket darkened slightly, but he grinned.

_Fool,_ thought Severus. _As if a Reductor would do any damage to a magical creature._

He tapped the gates with his wand and they slid open with the slightest of creaks. The older of the men, solidly built with straw colored hair, noticed Severus and trained his wand upon him.

"Identify yourself!" he shouted at Severus, who noticed the slight accent. "Identify yourself or I attack!"

"I rather think it is you that needs to be identified," said Severus waspishly. "You are the ones waging a battle with a vicious werewolf at the front gates of a castle full of underage children."

"I'm Sean Blake, and that's Aiden Blake." Sean jerked his head in the direction of the other man, slightly shorter with glossy hair the color of the night sky.

"Ah, you must be Mason and Alexandra's children," Severus said softly. "That still does not explain what you are doing on the gates of my school."

"He's after our sister," explained Aiden, flicking his wand at Greyback. Greyback dodged the burst of light and laughed derisively. "We're here to make sure we get him before he gets her."

"Ah." Severus repeated. He frowned. He sincerely doubted that the plan was actually Voldemort's. It was extremely feeble, with little chance of success. It was more likely that the plan was actually Constantin's. He had never actually had contact with the man, but his reputation proceeded him. By all accounts, he was a piece of work, though not terribly bright.

"Are you going to help us?" Shouted Sean, casting another spell to keep the werewolf at bay. "Our spells aren't doing much. We could use a hand!"

"I am well aware that you were educated in the United States," scoffed Severus. "Did you not study werewolves?"

"It wasn't high on the syllabus," countered Sean. "Werewolves aren't as much of a problem as they are here!"

"I'm sure," he sneered. "I see you require a crash course in werewolf wrangling."

"Oh, dear god," moaned Aiden. "I graduated! I thought I was done with the lessons!"

Severus narrowed his eyes. Sirius Black had said almost the exact same thing when he, James Potter, and Remus Lupin had shown up for their initiation into the Order of the Phoenix.

"Dogs have highly advanced senses of hearing and smell, do they not?" Severus said impatiently. "And what is a werewolf, but a dog with human DNA?"

"So what, we shout at him?" Sean scoffed. His hair fell into his face and he swiped it away hurriedly. "And throw smelly shoes at him, or something?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "We use sonic attacks."

"Oh, like dog whistles?" said Aiden.

"Little Blake girl..." Greyback audibly panted. "Gonna drain her blood... red, red, blood..."

"Do whatever you're going to do, then, Snape!" Sean shouted over Greyback. "I'm not letting him get my sister!"

"Calm yourself, Blake. He can't get through the gates," said Severus in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "He has no wand."

"I wouldn't be so sure," countered Sean. "I think I saw one in his sleeve just a second ago."

"That's illegal," he frowned. "Werewolves cannot carry wands unless they've registered with the Department of Magical Creatures."

"You really think this mutt cares about the legality?" said Sean. Severus had the idea that Sean was the more practical of the two.

"Touche," he said. He turned all the way to look at the werewolf. He was struggling with a cage of light from Aiden's wand, but he'd be free soon from the looks of things. Severus raised his wand.

Greyback immediately fell to the ground, clutching his ears with taloned fingers. He began to mutter curses, moaning, and rocking on his heels. Severus advanced and conjured a series of ropes, expertly twisting them around the werewolf until he was trussed like a Christmas present.

"Not too shabby," panted Aiden, glancing at his brother and inspecting Severus's handiwork. "Looks like you've got some experience with bondage, now I look at it."

Severus smirked slightly.

"There's a room in the dungeons that we can house this mongrel in until Dumbledore decides what to do with him," he said softly. "I take it that you will wish to see your sister, now that you are here?"

"Stupid question," muttered Aiden, rubbing the back of his neck. "Duh, we want to see her."

"You are aware that it is eleven thirty and the evening, and there is a very high chance that she is asleep in the Slytherin dormitories?" asked Severus pointedly.

"Yeah, right," scoffed Aiden. "When we were both in Salem, I lost track of how many times she got caught in the library at four in the morning. She memorized the patrol pattern and would sneak out just after lights out. She wouldn't have gotten caught except she'd start cussing when she couldn't find the book she wanted."

"And I lost count of how many letters were sent to our parents about it," added Sean. "They'd sit her down every vacation and lecture her until her ears blistered about the danger of being out of bounds after hours and she'd nod and smile and promise not to do it again, and two months later he letters would start again."

"A fascinating story," hissed Severus. "Now if only it had relevance..."

"Whoa, man," said Aiden. "Chill. We wanna see her if we can. If we can't - or if you can't find her, it's cool. We can wait until tomorrow."

"Hmm," said Severus. "I shall fetch her for you after we chain the mongrel in the dungeons."

"Thanks, man, we appreciate it," said Aiden earnestly. He clapped Severus on the shoulder and walked over to where Greyback was bound. He flicked his wand and Greyback floated up a foot into the air and levitated over to the center of the iron-wrought gate. Severus tapped the gate again and it creaked open, rattling slightly in the wind, and they slid through.

Their journey up the winding road to the castle passed quickly. They spoke little, kept their wands trained on Greyback, and gazed up at the imposing castle. Few lights illuminated the glass and owls swooped around the sides of the brick walls.

"Wow," breathed Sean. "Wicked."

"No kidding," agreed Aiden. "Kinda wish we'd gone here."

"Yep."

Severus rolled his eyes. It was like listening to overgrown first years. He led them through the entrance hall to the side door that led to the dungeons. They stumbled slightly on the steep steps but followed. Greyback's livid gaze scorched their necks, as though the werewolf was fantasizing about ripping out their throats and toasting them with their own blood. Aiden chuckled.

"Hey, Sean, remember when we had to take the cat to get neutered?"

"Oh, god," Sean shuddered and came to a halt. "I thought I was going to die that day. I don't think I had any skin left on my arms."

"Doesn't the expression on the werewolf's face kind of remind you of that?"

Sean cocked his head slightly and studied Greyback's expression. He snorted with laughter and began to nod, clapping Aiden on the shoulder. They shook on the stair. Greyback's eyes narrowed. Severus rolled his eyes yet again.

"For the love of Merlin," Severus spat. "Might I remind you of the large number of children housed in the school?"

"Yeah, we know," said Aiden easily. "Your rope work was nice. I'm sure it'll hold."

Once again, Severus was reminded of the Sirius Black of the their school days, not the gaunt specter of Grimmauld Place. He gritted his teeth and started back down the stairs, leading the men down the hallway past several doors to the classroom that had been contaminated his first year of teaching with a form of Amortentia. The student had cast some sort of permanent sticking charm on the seats – every time a student sat down, they fell deeply and irrationally in love with the Potions Master.

He'd been unable to prove who had done the deed, but he was certain it had been Sabrina Fairfield, a younger friend of the Marauders, who had pledged to continue their legacy of mischief after their graduation. It was just slightly suspicious that she had taken a bathroom break the period before – his planning hour - that had lasted almost twenty minutes. She'd fended herself with the womanly defense of 'killer cramps.'

He mainly used the classroom for storage. Piles of old textbooks covered one side while the cabinets held some of the more illicit potions ingredients he didn't want the students to have access to. It also held a set of stocks, a feature of the original architecture.

"Over here," he said, lifting a bar high enough for Aiden to navigate the werewolf into position. Severus slid the bar back into place, magically locking it and casting a full Body Bind upon the prisoner for good measure.

"Tilly!" he barked in the classroom, summoning his personal house elf. He appeared, beaming.

"What can Tilly do for Master?" he squeaked. "Tilly wishes to aid Master as best he can," the elf added seriously, sinking into a bow.

"Good God, English elves are weird," Sean whispered to Aiden, who sniggered.

"Watch the prisoner and make sure he doesn't escape. If he tries something," Severus said firmly. "Here is a bottle of wolfsbane. Throw one sprig on him and summon me immediately.

"Yes, Master, Tilly is happy to do so," bobbed the elf, marching in front of the bound werewolf. He glared at Greyback viciously, pulling a wooden spoon from his apron and holding in front of him like a club. Severus almost smiled.

He turned back to Sean and Aiden. "He is secure, for the meantime. The three of us need to report to Albus Dumbledore, and then if it is a decent hour, you may find Miss Blake."

Aiden nodded. "Fair enough."

The three men crossed to the fireplace on the side of the room. A quick jab of the wand had the fire roaring and healthy, and a pinch of Floo powder whisked them to the headmaster's study.

"Ah, you must be Sean and Aiden," said Dumbledore in warm greeting, pulling them to their feet and shaking their hands. "I believe we owe you thanks for assisting with our werewolf problem."

"No problemo," smiled Sean. "That guy looked like quite the piece of work."

"Indeed he is." Dumbledore's smile saddened. "One of our own staff is a victim of Greyback's savagery."

"Ah, that bites," said Aiden. "A friend of mine has an uncle who was a werewolf. Had a hard time adjusting to it all, too."

"Hopefully, Greyback's forces will fall apart with his capture," said Dumbledore. "I'm under the impression that they aren't terribly organized, nor committed."

"How cool are we?" grinned Aiden to Sean. "We might have just taken out an entire army!"

"So modest," sneered Severus, settling into one of the chairs in front of Albus's desk. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Would you like something to drink?" Dumbledore asked Sean and Aiden.

"Nah, I'm good, thanks though," said Sean.

"Water, please," said Aiden. "And we were wondering if we could see Aisling tonight? We can come back tomorrow, though."

"Ah," said Dumbledore. "I rather think you will find her in the Head Girl's rooms. She spends most of her evenings with Miss Granger."

Severus narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore. He didn't even know that, and the girl was in his bloody house. She must have found some way to disable his security system.

"I am certain she is still awake, and this shall not take too long." Dumbledore smiled. "Can you tell me what happened tonight?

---[ TDV ]---

The house-elf's arm with the effort of holding the wooden spoon aloft. He kept a silent vigil over the werewolf, watching his every move. Greyback gave a great sniff.

"I know you're here, boy," growled Greyback. "I can smell you."

Ron pulled the Invisibility Cloak – pilfered from Harry's trunk – from his tall form and stepped out from the shadows. He was pale and his eyes were huge.

"You're Fenrir Greyback," said Ron shakily.

"You is not supposed to be here," shrieked the elf, glaring accusingly at Ron's newly emerged form. "You needs to be leaving, now, sir, or I will summon my master!"

"The one and only," chuckled Greyback nastily. "You're a Pureblood. And young, too. And," he said, giving a great sniff in Ron's direction. "I'd say you were the youngest Weasley boy. Your blood smells familiar. How's your older brother?"

Ron's ears began to burn. "He's alive. And he's not a werewolf."

"Oh, he survived?" Greyback looked most put out. "I was sure he'd die from blood loss. A tasty snack, he was..."

Ron said nothing. He watched the werewolf closely, ignoring the house elf's renewed demands that he leave immediately. He could swear the hair on his face was growing right before his eyes, and his eyes shone a weird silvery yellow. Just then a beam of moonlight reflected off of a jar just above Ron's shoulder, making him squint.

"Oh, shit," muttered Ron as Greyback lunged, breaking several of the ropes. A second later he had pulled a stolen wand from the ragged sleeve of his robe. Ron backed away as quickly as he could but tripped backwards over the leg of a fallen chair. There was a flash of light and the bar that held Greyback in the stockade flew across the room. The house elf crumpled where he stood, spoon clattering on the stone floor.

"Oh, deary me, isn't this a nightmare," cackled Greyback, advancing on Ron. "Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?"

"Merlin," he breathed, scrambling backwards, holding his own wand up into Greyback's face. Greyback swiped Ron's hand with his talons, sending Ron's wand flying into the opposite wall.

"Need to hold onto your stick harder than that, puppy," crooned Greyback, pressing Ron into the floor with one hand to his chest. "Isn't much use over there, is it now?"

Ron's lips moved soundlessly, pupils increasing in size. He could feel Greyback's breath across his face, the ends of his filthy hair tickling his ears.

"Oh, young flesh... your brother was tasty, but you're a downright treat." Greyback ran a talon down Ron's cheek, smirking at the boy's look of utter terror. "And you're too frightened to fight back. That's good... the meat won't toughen up when you die."

Greyback licked Ron's neck, his smirk growing as Ron whimpered. "Aw," he crooned comfortingly, "Am I frightening you?"

Ron nodded fervently, his teeth clicking together rhythmically. Greyback chuckled again.

"Love that sound," he smiled. "Beautiful."

"N-no," stuttered Ron. "No..."

"Ah, yes," contradicted Greyback. "Say your prayers, whelp."

The werewolf bit down into the flesh over Ron's neck, where he could see the boy's pulse pump his blood erratically, preparing for the inevitable.

"Mmm," sighed Greyback, swiping his tongue over his lips. "Fresh. And look at that," he said, looking down at Ron's savaged neck. "It's coming out, greeting me."

Ron's eyes glazed over slightly and he began to shake, limbs twitching uncontrollably. His own heart pumped the blood from his body.

"And now," continued Greyback tenderly. "The quick finish. Have you finished praying?"

Ron's eyelids drifted halfway shut and the twitching eased slightly. Greyback seized Ron's head and twisted it sharply, grinning as the loud crack filled the empty classroom.

"Lovely," said Greyback, studying Ron's body. "Just lovely. A beautiful kill."

And Greyback began to tear strips of flesh from the body, sitting on his haunches and licking the blood from his hands.

---[ TDV ]---

"Oi, Harry, have you seen Ron anywhere?" Seamus asked Harry as he sat on his bed.

"Nope," replied Harry, peeling his sweater apart from his shirt. "Haven't actually talked to him in three... no, four days."

"Oh," said Seamus, frowning slightly. "Only that owl's been there for ages."

He indicated the owl sitting patiently on Ron's pillow, preening it's wing feathers. Harry recognized it as Bill's owl, Mercury.

"Hey," he said, crossing to the bed and stroking his neck. "Been here for a while, huh? I'll go see if I can find him, yeah?"

The owl nibbled Harry's finger appreciatively and Harry went back down into the common room, scanning for a head of bright hair. He saw a glint of copper, but it was Ginny, not Ron,who sat in an overstuffed chair by the fire, chatting with a couple of her friends from her own year.

"Gin," he called. She looked over and smiled at him. "Seen your brother?"

"Yeah," she said, somewhat disappointed. She had felt him pull away slightly and was hoping for a reconciliation. "He sneaked out of the common room while you were in with Hermione. I think he's down in the dungeons again," she added, rolling her eyes.

"Thanks."

He tapped on Hermione's door, glad she was still up. Her eyes were red, making him wonder if she'd been crying since he'd left not five minutes previously.

"Hey," she said shakily.

"Sorry," he said earnestly. "Can I have Sirius's Invisibility Cloak back? Ron has mine, and I think he's in the dungeon again."

"Yeah," she said, turning and lifting it from a hook. She handed it to him and her hand brushed his slightly. He frowned when she jumped.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll talk to you later, okay? Good night."

"Night," she replied, smiling slightly and shutting the door.

He turned and climbed out of the portrait hole, covering himself with the Invisibility Cloak as he did so. He thoroughly startled the Fat Lady, who was unable to see him. Chuckling, he made his way down three floors, skirting Mrs. Norris and several trick stairs. He made a detour to avoid the Bloody Baron,and finally ended up on the second floor.

He ducked behind a marble bust as a door opened, Lupin hurrying out and slamming the door behind him.

"Remus," he called, pulling the cloak from his face. Remus looked around, a look of resignation gracing his exhausted features.

"Why am I not surprised?" he asked Harry, beckoning for him to follow. Harry kept pace, his head floating along in midair.

"Sorry, Remus. I'm looking for Ron, have you seen him?" Harry twitched the cloak all the way off. He wouldn't be in trouble since he was with a teacher.

"What, you don't know where he is?" frowned Lupin. "I remember a time when you three were joined at the hip."

"Things changed..." Harry glanced out of the window, squinting in the moonlight. "He's been... distant. When he and Hermione fought, I got caught in the middle, and Ron seems to have walked away."

"Ah,that would explain a couple of things. How does Aisling fit into all of this?"

"She's Hermione's new bestest girlfriend, and she scares Ron. She scares me, too, now I think on it," he added, remembering the conversation in Hermione's room.

"So she ditched you for a girl," smirked Lupin. "I remember Sirius was most upset when your father got hitched to Lily."

"Yeah," muttered Harry, scarlet faced. "Anyway, about Ron.... he's been skulking in the dungeons lately. That's where I think he is. He swiped my dad's cloak."

"Oh, Merlin," said Lupin, coming to a halt and staring at Harry in horror. "You can't be serious!"

"Um, yeah, that's where I think he is," said Harry, discomfited by Lupin's sudden change. "Why?"

"Because Fenrir Greyback is chained down in the dungeons. He tried to get in through the front gates an hour ago." Lupin turned on his heel and sprinted down the corridor, Harry hot on his heels.

"Greyback," he murmured, in shock and horror. Bill's face flashed through his mind, chased away by images of Remus in his wolf form.

"Oh, god," he whispered as they reached the Great Hall, turning a sharp right to the doorway that led to the dungeons. How was he going to explain this to Molly and Arthur?

And Hermione. How would he tell her?

"Harry." Lupin stopped short. Harry toppled into him, seizing a wall sconce to keep himself on his feet. Lupin's nostrils were flared, and his eyes shone a faint yellow. "I smell blood."

"Oh, god," he repeated. He tugged his wand from his pocket, holding it aloft. "We've got to go in there, Remus."

"No, I'm going in there." Remus shook his head firmly. "Sirius may not be around to protect you, Harry, but I am. You're not going in there."

"You can't stop me," Harry retorted loudly. "I'm of age. And don't tell me that you'd stay out in the corridor if it was Sirius trapped in there with Greyback."

"James," whispered Remus, looking up. "I curse you with every fiber of my being. Your son is far too much like you."

"I think some of that is Mum," Harry pointed out. "She wasn't exactly known for a lack of loyalty."

"Fine," conceded Remus. "If I take you in there with me, you will do exactly as I say when I say it. You will follow every order I issue. Is that understood?"

"Yes, come on, let's go," Harry said hurriedly. Lupin crossed in front of him and tapped the door with his wand. It creaked open and they slid inside. They could see a large frame hunched over the floor, with disgusting slurping sounds.

"Fenrir," called Remus. "What have you done?"

"Ah, another old friend of mine," grinned Greyback, looking up. He had something dark smeared across his cheeks, and Harry felt the blood drain from his face. "Remus Lupin. You were always my favorite, you know. I was most upset when you declined my invitation to come live with me."

"Fenrir, did you hurt someone?" Remus's voice was steady, but Harry could fell the tension radiating from him.

"Remus Lupin. It was as if your parents wanted you to be bit," continued Greyback thoughtfully. "Remus, suckled by a wolf and killed by his brother. Lupin, which means wolf in itself."

"Fenrir," said Remus warningly.

"Just a bite to eat," said Greyback, raising his hands. "Something to tide me over until the next full moon. There's enough left for a snack, if you're hungry, if you want to wet your muzzle..."

"Who have you hurt, Fenrir," said Remus calmly.

"I think he's the youngest Weasley boy," Greyback began conversationally. "His blood smells like his older brother's. He's got tender flesh, though. The older brother was tough."

"Ron!" shouted Harry. Remus threw out an arm to restrain him around the chest. "If you've killed him, I swear to Merlin..."

"Ooh, very nice, such tender furies..." Greyback looked at Harry appraisingly. "Maybe I'll bite you. Teach the Dark Lord to hunt me.... if I've made his prey unusable..."

"Nobody is going to be bitten today," said Remus firmly. "How did you get loose, Fenrir?"

"Your poncy Potions Master and his two pups didn't bother to check for a wand," hummed Greyback. "It was a simple case of stunning that elf and untying myself. And then this snack came along, just begging to die."

"Where did you get the wand?" Remus's fingers bit into Harry's flesh. Harry quivered.

"I'm not a sheep. And anyone who believes otherwise will die." Greyback said shortly. "Constantin van der Skep knows that now. Not that it really does him much good," Greyback added, smiling. His teeth were stained red. "He's not good for much except steaks and ground human."

"You killed Constantin?" Remus's eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead. "Well, that takes care of one problem."

"Remus!" Harry began furiously. "Remember Ron?"

"There's nothing we can do," Remus whispered back. "Greyback generally doesn't leave survivors. And if he did live through it, he'll wish he'd died."

Harry stared at Remus, dumbfounded. "Do you wish you had died?"

"Every day," said Remus at once. "We need to take care of Greyback before we can get to Ron."

"I'm gonna kill that fucker," Harry swore between clenched jaws. He began to shake, sparks shooting out of the end of his wand. Remus took one look at his eyes and took hold on Harry's upper arm. A muscle in his cheek twitched.

"How dare you."

"How dare I? I dare to do so because there's nothing your frail human self could do to stop me." Greyback said simply, nodding at Harry patronizingly.

"How dare you."

"And now you sound like a scratched record," sneered the werewolf. "You're not very frightening, puppy."

"How fucking dare you!" Harry ripped his arm out of Lupin's grip and lunged at Greyback, flattening him against the floor. He aimed a punch at Greyback's head that made a sick crunching noise as it bounced off the stone. The werewolf seized Harry's arms and pushed him up, so Harry was leaning on his palms. Harry grinned savagely and kicked for all he was worth between Greyback's legs. Greyback yelped and dropped Harry, who landed on his side and immediately jumped to his feet. He seized a cauldron from the nearby lab station – blessing whatever student had left the handle intact – and brought it down over Greyback's head, kicking his ribs when Greyback cradled his bleeding skull in his hands.

Lupin stood back, frozen, watching in horror as Harry delivered blow after blow, relentlessly bashing Greyback's body to pieces with whatever he had in hand. He'd used the cauldron until the handle fell off. He grabbed a chair, but a screw came loose and the whole thing came apart in his hands. There was a tall stick nearby that was used to collect cauldrons from hooks on the wall. He'd broken that in half.

_My hands hurt. They're bloody. But I can't really feel it. I know it should hurt. Blood implies wound, which implies pain. All I can see is Ron's face, stark white underneath the freckles. He looks scared. Well, he'd look scared if he was still alive. His hair looks redder than usual. Must be the light, it's catching it weird, or something. I pay attention to was – is – below me and my eyes widen. Greyback's hair is actually dirty-blond. It's just really filthy. Whoa, there's fleas. I'm not sure why I'm surprised, I shouldn't be. That's quite the mouth. He's lost a few, so I don't know them up close in their glory, but that is a set of teeth to be both proud of and repulsed by. Impressive to be so large and sharp, but disgusted because of their plaque. I bet those could do some damage. Better not risk it, so I'll punch the rest of them out._

"HARRY!"

_Remus's voice sounds so old. He's not really that old, the same as my parents. And they had me young. I would have thought that Sirius would look older, from his time in Azkaban, but I guess the wolf feeds on his life force. Greyback looks old, too. I wonder how old he is. I can't really tell. I can't really see through all the blood. His eyes are black, too, and there's an yellowish substance coming from underneath one of his eyelids. Blood is spreading from behind his head. I wonder if those fleas laid eggs in his hair._

_He's not really moving._

"HARRY!"

_Hmm. That sounded like Hermione. She'll know all about fleas. She's really cool like that._

"HARRY!"

"GET MADAME POMFREY!"

_Yes, so that was Hermione. She just called for Madame Pomfrey for a second opinion. Maybe there are two likely options, and she needs to know which one..._


End file.
